


When It Rains, It Pours

by ricemilk



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged up characters, Alcoholism, Angst, Anxiety, Child Abuse, Depression, Homophobic Language, M/M, Panic Attacks, Poor Butters, Suicidal Thoughts, but it’s mostly cartman so who cares, butters has a huge crush on kenny, butters is not okay, emphasis on “wants” lol, kenny wants to help, some creek of course, tweek and butters are friends, what is love?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2019-07-25 08:51:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16194185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ricemilk/pseuds/ricemilk
Summary: Butters believes he suffers from a case of bad luck. Like the “God has had it out for you since the day you were born” type of bad luck. It seems like when things get good, they get bad, and when things get bad, they get worse. But at least the people around him make his life a whole lot easier. Right? RIGHT?!





	1. May I Ride The Shopping Cart Now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Butters is the pusher when his friends (plus Cartman this time) ride the shopping cart. Thing is, he's never actually had a turn on it.

Butters sighed when his alarm clock oh-so-rudely interrupted him from his dream.

He didn't remember too much, but he did remember Kenny's face and the most beautiful song playing as they danced. He’s been having those dreams for the past two years. It had seemed so real, too, but Kenny hated slow dancing and Butters was the most clumsy person on Earth.

Butters heard knocking and tensed up. Then he looked over to where the sound was actually coming from, and a relieved smile spread across his face. He crawled over to the window, where Kenny was waiting and smiling like an idiot. Even if his mouth was covered, his eyes were crinkled and it made the fat below stick out. Not only did it make Kenny look adorable, but it made the dark circles less noticeable. The second Butters opened it and tried to say hi, Kenny suddenly jumped in, tackling Butters off the bed and to the ground with him  

Ignoring the heat in his face, Butters chuckled lightly as he sat up. "Gee, Ken, did ya miss me that much?"

Kenny didn’t answer Butters, and instead, he pointed his thumb behind him. "Stan, Kyle, and I stole another shopping cart and we need our pusher. Care to join us?"

Butters couldn't tell him that he hated being the pusher. That he was too weak to push them. That it was unfair how everyone got a turn except him. But Kenny was giving him that _look_. He couldn’t really explain it, but Butters could never resist it. He liked to believe that he wasn’t a pushover, but Kenny could probably make him commit genocide if he wanted.

"Y-Yeah," he replied breathlessly, nodding. Could he be any more obvious that he was in love? Maybe, but this is still pretty damn blatant.

Kenny shot up and put his hands on his hips. "Then get dressed and get your ass outside!" Before Butters could say anything else, he jumped out the window.

Butters blinked when he realized that he was just sitting there. He frantically looked around his room for something clean to wear. After deciding on a hoodie and jeans, he tried to fix his hair (which was impossible, so he didn’t know why he bothered) and gargled some mouthwash. Proper hygiene is for losers.

No way was he jumping out that window. He had no clue how Kenny always did it without killing himself. Don't get him wrong, jumping out sounded like a really nice alternative to what he usually did, but Butters did _not_ feel like dying any time soon. Or maybe he just didn’t have the courage, who knows? Besides, he's faced his father before.

Butters practically tiptoed out his room and down the hall, cringing whenever the floor decided to creak. Last time that happened, he was grounded for a week. Then again, he was grounded for a month the time before that, so at least his dad is easing up a bit now.

Stephen was reading the newspaper in his old recliner, drinking a cup of black coffee, blissfully unaware that his son was staring at him.

 _He's in a good mood_ , Butters thought as he made his way to the front door. Even if his dad didn’t found out about him sneaking out, the consequences would be less severe.   

“Good morning, Butters."

_Hamburgers._

Butters slowly turned around to face his father, trying to decide if he should make eye contact or not. "Oh, uh, g-good morning, dad." He hoped the voice crack wasn’t too obvious  

“You going somewhere?"

"J-Just out with my friends, Dad," Butters tried to smile. "I should be home in an hour or so."

Stephen set the newspaper down and got up, slowly walking to Butters, who could only watch in fear. "You know I don't like you hanging out with them, Butters. They do nothing but treat you like garbage."

Garbage? Eh. Butters wasn’t stupid. Whenever he looked back at how they treated him in elementary school, he’d think _Man, that wasn’t right_. They’ve definitely gotten nicer, but it’s obvious they’ve mostly just taken pity on Butters. Well, except Kenny, who was the only one who didn’t treat him bad. That’s one of the reasons why he likes him so much  

Butters didn’t say all that; He just laughed nervously. “Aw, dad, they're nice, I-I swear. You don't gotta worry about me."

That didn't help in the slightest. His dad looked him up and down and grunted (Stan called it “the dad noise”). Butters couldn't help but feel a little disappointed that his own dad didn't trust him, but why was he? He ought to be used to it by now.

“If you say so, son." Stephen pointed an accusing finger at him and furrowed his brows, "But you better mean it when you say you'll be back in an hour. If not, I'll ground you, you hear?"

Butters nodded quickly, "O-Of course, dad."

When Stephen turned around, Butters’ pulse slowed down, and he decided that it was safe to go outside now.

The cold had never felt so welcoming.

He looked to the left to see Kyle, Stan, and Kenny yelling at someone. As he walked closer, he realized that Eric Cartman was sitting in the shopping cart, ignoring everyone around him. Butters rolled his eyes. From the looks of things, he invited himself and climbed in the cart when everyone told him to leave. The cart that Butters had to push, by the way. 

He eventually jogged to them and stood there until Kenny finally noticed him. "Hey, Butters," he greeted, acting like he didn’t want to strangle Cartman right now. His hood was down, so Butters could see the freckles on his chin. Kenny must have caught him staring because he stuck out his tongue.

Kyle and Stan turned around to quickly say hi, then went back to yelling at Cartman.

"You better get out of this cart or I swear to god-!"

"What Kahl? What will do you, hm?" Cartman’s calm voice annoyed everyone. He went back to playing some game on his phone.

"C'mon, dude," Stan huffed, "Butters already has a hard time pushing the cart with just us three; Your fatass is only gonna make it worse." 

Butters was happy to see that they acknowledged how difficult it was being the pusher. But they didn't acknowledge how unfair it was in the first place, so it didn't matter that much to him. Well, if that’s the case, why even bring it up in the first place?

Cartman widened his eyes, "I'M NOT FAT I'M-" He stopped himself and took a deep breath. "I'm not getting out of this fucking cart."

Everyone looked at Butters. He tried to smile, "D-Don't you worry, Eric, I can push all of you."

Cartman grinned and everyone else gave up. Butters couldn't help but feel disappointed with himself. He knew it was his call and he didn't like Cartman all too much. Still, Butters did remember him saying they were friends, and friends don't leave each other out! 

Everyone went to their usual spots—Stan to the side, Kyle in the front, Kenny in the basket (having to squeeze in with Cartman his time), and Butters holding onto the hand bar.

"Everybody ready?" Butters asked, a little hesitant. When he heard them say they were, he rubbed his hands together. He could do this. He got this. Butters pushed as hard as he could...the cart wasn't moving. He tried again, twice as hard. Oh! It moved a bit! He's got it! He's doing it!

Stan and Kyle looked at each other and shook their heads; Cartman didn't really care what was going on at the moment (way too invested in getting past Level 68 of his game); Kenny sighed and looked back at Butters, "Need a little help?"

Butters switched positions, trying to see if anything would make the cart easier to push. "No," he replied loudly as if he was telling himself that, “I got it. Thank you." Kenny continued watching poor Butters struggle to push the cart. Sure, the task has always been difficult, but the extra weight was only making things worse.

When they finally made it to the end of the street, Butters leaned against the cart and tried to catch his breath.

"Ey!" Cartman looked up from his phone. "Why'd you stop?!"

"I, uh, I'm just taking a little break, Eric. I've been pushing you all for a while now."

Before Cartman could order him to continue, Stan sighed. "Yeah, we should just take a break." He got off the cart and Kyle followed suit, the two boys taking a seat on the dirty sidewalk. "Jesus, Butters, you look like you're about to pass out."

"I do?"

Butters froze when he felt gloved hands on his cheeks bend his head back. Kenny looked at him closely—maybe a little too closely—with worried eyes. "Yeah, your face is all red."

Cartman muttered something under his breath, probably "Fucking fags" or something like that. Butters hoped Kenny didn’t care because he stopped caring about homophobic insults (especially ones from Cartman) years ago.

Despite his friends looking concerned, Butters felt like he was upsetting everyone. It's always been his duty to push the cart, no matter how much he hated it. He can't let them down like this. "I-I'm ready. Let's go."

"You sure, Butters?" Kenny asked.

Butters nodded as he stared at his shoes, "Yeah. Get on, guys." Stan and Kyle looked at each other, shrugged, then followed hopped on.

"And speed it up a little, will ya, Butters?" Cartman said, not bothering to hide his smirk.

"Yeah. I'll try."

 

* * *

 

The cart got a little easier to push as time went by. Plus, Butters probably got some muscle out of it, so that's good. When they reached the top of the hill, he fell to the concrete in exhaustion, panting like a dog.

Cartman furrowed his eyebrows, "Uh, did you forget that you still need to push us down the hill? Get your lazy ass-"

"Shut it, fatso! He can't push it with you in the damn cart!" Kyle yelled, just now losing his temper.

"For the last _fucking_ time," Cartman growled, "I am not fat, I'm _BIG-BONED_!"

Butters tried to drown them out and watched a cloud. Maybe he was going crazy from his tried he was, but Butters swore he saw a could that looked just like Kenny. He frowned when he saw how lonely it is. If Butters could, he’d add a Butters Cloud to keep it company, along with a Stan and Kyle Cloud, of course. Heck, a large Cartman Cloud could be there, too, but maybe far away from everyone else….

"Butters! Butters, are you fucking listening to me?!"

He lifted his head to see Cartman's angry glare, "Huh?"

"Push. Us. Down.”

Butters started to sit up but did it slowly as some sort of rebellion. Like it actually meant anything. Kenny played with the rip in his pocket. “You don't have to if you don't want to, ya know?”

Butters stared at him. Ugh, why is he giving him the look again? If Kenny didn’t want him to push, he would’ve just flat out said so, right? "I-I want to." He dusted off his hands, trying to ignore the fact that his dirty clothes could get him grounded. He put his hands at the handlebar and positioned the cart. "Count of three."

Everybody nodded.

"One...two...three!"

They were off. Butters watched in amazement, as he always did when they did his. The four boys in the cart screamed as they went down the hill, not as fast as usual, but still pretty fast. The momentum made them go further once they were on level ground, and the screaming didn't stop until afterward. Cartman was the last one to stop screaming, and Kyle stared at him. It looked like so much fun.

He awkwardly walked down the hill, extra careful not to fall and hurt himself. That wouldn't be the first time he's done that, though.

"Dude, that was _epic_ ," Stan grinned. Kyle nodded in agreement. Kenny was doing some sort of “machine gun” laugh. Cartman…looked like he was gonna be sick. Butters stood there and watched them. He really shouldn't say anything. He always got the same answer. But, hey, maybe this time will be different.

"Hey, you guys, you think that I-I can have a turn now?"

Everyone went quiet and looked at him. After what felt like forever (fine, three seconds), Kyle rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry, Butters, but I need to get back home. Next time, okay?"

“Yeah,” Stan said. “Wendy wanted to hang out today. You’ll get your turn next time, though.” He smiled and put his hand on Butters’ shoulder, who gave a fake smile in return. Of course.

Kyle and Stan said their goodbyes and left.

Cartman crawled out of the cart with difficulty and put his phone in his back pocket. “That was fucking lame-oh. Ever tried joining a gym, Butters?"

Before Butters could say no, Kenny was quick to defend. "No one asked you to come, fatass."

“Don't call me fat, hobo!" He yelled, walking up to Kenny and pointing a chubby finger in his face. Butters admired how Kenny just stared him down, but it also scared him in a way. “Ugh, I'm outta here. Later, faggots."

”Bye.”

Then it was just Butters and Kenny, just how they liked it.

“Hey," Kenny whispered, “watch Cartman try to haul his ass up that hill."

Butters cracked a smile. It was pretty funny seeing him waddle from behind like that. Cartman nearly fell over form how tried he was already, and Butters has to stifle his laughter. But then he was gone, and it really was just them.

"I'm sorry we didn't push you down the hill, Butters," Kenny said after a while. Butters was taken aback. He supposed Kenny was the “nice one” of the group, more so than Kyle, who honestly just came off as preachy. Still, it’s not like Kenny has ever apologized for something like this.

"Um...it's fi-"

"No. It's not fine."

Butters bit his lip. He had always hoped that someone would say they were sorry, as dumb as it was. Now that someone had to be Kenny, and Butters had no idea what to say.

Kenny got out of the cart and held out his hand to Butters, who forgot that he sat down on the ground some time ago.

"C'mon," he smiled. “It's _your_ turn now."

Butters stared at the hand. Then at Kenny. Hand. Kenny. "Wow, Ken. I...I-I-"

“Just get in the cart, you dork."

Butters slowly took the hand, wondering if this was some sort of cruel joke, but figured it wasn’t when Kenny pulled him up. He brushed the dirt off his pants and got in. It was smaller than he expected but roomy enough to where he could get comfortable.

Kenny turned the cart around and started pushing up the hill, making Butters gasp in surprise. "Hey, you don't need to push me all the way up. Halfway is just fine.”

"Eh, I guess that makes us even," Kenny chuckled. "And you're, like, twenty pounds. I think I can handle it."

Butters pouted. He was a little insecure about how small he was, and Kenny wasn’t much taller than him. Oh well, at least he wasn't straining himself. Maybe he deserves it, but Butters still felt guilty for some reason.

It didn't take long for them to reach the top, and Kenny was panting despite claiming that it'd be easy. "Ready?"

Butters crawled (or tried to) to the front and held on to the edge. "Ready as I'll ever be!"

"One...two...three!"

Before Butters even knew what was going on, he felt a weird tickle in the stomach—the kind you get when you're riding a roller coaster. It made him scream, and he shut his eyes tightly. As he thought about the poor neighbors who had to listen to this, the cart suddenly hit something.

It was likely a little rock, but that little rock was enough to make the cart tip over violently, and Butters fell out and rolled on the street. He heard Kenny curse and yell his name, and it made his head throb. Now that he was more aware of his surroundings, Butters realized that his head hurt. Like, really hurt.

Kenny reached Butters and rolled him over on his back. He cringed when he saw how dirty and scraped up his face was. "Holy shit, Butters, are you okay?!"

"Huh? Oh, yeah...I'm just fine."

"You're crying," Kenny sighed.

"I am?" Butters brought his hand to his face, ignoring the pain he felt when he touched it. When he realized how wet it was, more tears decided to fall out. "S-Sorry," he sniffled. "I'm fine, really. It kind of hurt, that’s all."

Butters flinched when Kenny placed his hands on his cheeks...for the second time today. He was a little more gentle, and he was stroking him with his thumb. It still hurt, but Butters didn’t care because Kenny was touching him.

"Jesus Christ…. Should I take you back to my place?”

"H-Huh?"

Kenny snorted. "You can clean yourself up there. Don't want your dad grounding you for getting hurt."

Butters looked down, ashamed of himself and his diehard crush. “Yeah. Thanks, Ken.” He was helped up and the two made their way to Kenny's house, purposely ignoring the stupid shopping cart. Maybe some homeless person could find some use for it.

Somewhere at that moment, Butters totally forgot about his dad. Then again, maybe that was a good thing.


	2. Things Were Perfect Until IT Came Along

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Butters' dad has been stressed lately, and beer only seems to make things worse. So, Butters decides to do the only thing he CAN do.

Kenny's house smelled like cheap perfume with a dash of rotting flesh, and Butters felt a wave of nostalgia crash over him the second he smelled it. It's been years since he's been inside Kenny's house, which was weird because Kenny has been in his plenty of times. The last time he went was back in seventh grade when they were having a sleepover. Kenny's mom served expired raccoon meat for dinner, which ended with Butters getting sick and having to go home. Let's just say that his parents weren't very happy. With Butters, of course.

Kenny put his hood back on and zipped his parka all the way up. It was freezing, and Butters still shivered despite wearing a hoodie. "Sorry about the cold."

"No p-problem," Butters muttered, hugging himself. Kenny gave him a sympathetic smile. He followed Kenny to his bedroom, which hadn't changed too much. It was still messy and smelled a lot like weed, which made Butters wonder if Kenny had smoked something just this morning. But at least Kenny had the decency to take down those stupid Playboy posters, which freaked Butters out when he looked at them. Not because he was (so obviously) gay, but because their faces were a little scary. Maybe Kenny had a certain type, but the girls looked like they hated the photographer. "You, uh, got a first aid kit or something?"

"Mmhmm."

Butters sat down on the bed which only consisted of a pillow and a thin blanket, watching Kenny rummage through his underwear drawer. "Why did you get one anyway?"

Kenny turned around with the first aid kit in his hands a couple of seconds later. As he walked over to the bed, he tried to open the container. "Fucking Kevin plays rough. Like, I literally just stand there, and he'd tackle me to the ground and punch me. I remember one day, he got me so bad, I started bleeding. I left it alone and ended up getting an infection and dying."

Butters gasped and smacked his friend's shoulder. "Don't joke around like that!" Butters was a little sensitive when it came to Kenny's death jokes, mostly because he'd have no idea what to do if Kenny disappeared. After a moment of silence, Butters cleared his throat, "...So...where's your brother now?"

"Prison."

"O-Oh...sorry.

Kenny shrugged as he opened the kit. "I mean, it's also just a handy thing to have. I'm pretty clumsy." He's clearly used it a lot; everything was jumbled up and he was a little low on supplies. Butters wondered how long he's had it.

He took some wipes and started wiping Butters' face, apologizing when the boy winced. Once the dirt and extra blood were wiped away, Kenny checked over to see if there were any serious injuries on Butters' face. When he saw that there weren't any, he opened two large band-aids to cover the scrapes. After two minutes, Kenny leaned back and smiled at his mediocre work. "Done."

Butters patted his cheeks. "Done? Already?”

"Yup." Kenny went to his drawer to bury the kit again. "Wish I had a lollipop or something to give you; you were such a good patient."

Butters rolled his eyes and fell back on the bed, letting out a deep sigh as he did so. What Kenny said about his dad kept repeating in his head, and it made him worry. Still, it's not like he said it in an angry way, so he shouldn't worry about it. He grunted when Kenny suddenly jumped on the bed next to him, then blushed because Kenny's mere existence made him nervous.

"You okay?"

"Oh, yeah," Butters smiled. "That was really sweet of you, Kenny. I hope I wasn't being a bother."

"Don't worry about it." Kenny lay on his back and stared at the mysterious stains on his ceiling, oblivious to Butters staring at him. "As I said, I don't want you dad grounding you for getting hurt."

Butters found himself frowning at that statement. Kenny was obviously irked by something if he kept bringing it up. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Hm?"

"Why do you keep mentioning my dad?"

Kenny turned his head to face Butters. "Sorry if this offends you, Buttercup, but your dad's a fucking dickhole."

Butters disliked how relaxed Kenny sounded while saying that as if it was a fact rather than an opinion.  He knew Kenny didn't like his dad, but he didn't think it was by this much. It's not like he felt bad (Stephen has made it very clear what he thinks of Butters' friends), he just felt stuck in the middle of a quiet feud.

"Okay, I get it. I mean, I get mad at him sometimes, too," Butters said. Kenny remained silent. "But, I mean, he's my dad, Ken. With mom not being here and everything, he's been pretty stressed lately. I care about him, and I know he cares about me."  _Even if he has a special way of showing it_. "I'm not saying you have to like him, but I-I'd appreciate it if you... _didn't_ talk about him like that?"

Kenny’s face softened as he stared at Butters, who secretly hoped he wasn't sounding cheesy or preachy. It seemed like an eternity before he finally said something: “Alrighty, Butters, I’ll try not to talk shit about your asshole dad.” He laughed at Butters’ glare--which ended up being kind of adorable rather than threatening--and sat up slowly. “Sorry, dude. Real talk though, I like how you stood up for him."

Butters didn't know why he was blushing. Oh, right, because Kenny is genuinely complimenting him and that doesn't happen a lot. It was usually a joke or incredibly condescending. Still, he smiled and said "Thank you" because what else was he supposed to say? 

"Are you sick or something?"

"N-No, just a little warm."

Kenny chuckled, "I thought you were cold."

Before Butters could come up with another excuse, he froze as a realized something. What was it his father said this morning?

_You better mean it when you say you'll be back in an hour. If not, I'll ground you, you hear?_

Butters gasped. _Oh no!_ Butters shot up off the bed. _I'm so stupid!_ Butters couldn't breathe.

“Woah, woah, Butters,” Kenny said slowly, “what’s wrong?”

“I-I…” Butters widened his eyes and shook his head. “I’m s-so sorry, Kenny, but I need to go! Like, now!”

“Okay, I’ll walk you-”

“NO!" He was flooded with guilt when Kenny jumped back. "I mean, I need to go. I-I’ll talk to you later, I p-promise!” Butters ran out of the room, hearing his name being called. Kenny must be so worried about him, and rightfully so; Butters was trembling and hyperventilating like crazy. He was gonna get grounded for sure. 

Butters ran as fast as he could, away from Kenny’s house, out of the poor neighborhood, into his own, to his front door. He breathed through his nose and swallowed, trying to soothe his throat. He knew that at on the other side of the door, his dad would be impatiently waiting for him, tapping his foot with crossed arms. The image was so clear because he’s seen it all too many times. There really was no avoiding it, though. It was Butters’ fault for forgetting about his dad, and stalling won’t help. He prepared for the worse as he opened the door, which he kept unlocked when he went out. He wasn’t allowed to take the house keys with him.

Surprisingly, his dad was not waiting for him. Butters closed the door, confused, and looked in the living room. He spotted his dad’s feet, and the fear returned. He slowly walked there, the sound of the TV and...snoring? Wait, snoring? It was getting louder. Butters stopped when he saw that his dad was asleep in his recliner, surrounded by a bunch of beer cans. He didn’t know that his dad started drinking again. It's been about two years since he saw him with a beer, but he’s never drank thismuch before. An especially loud snore made Butters jump. He could just leave his dad here, but then he’d get grounded for not waking him up. Plus, _stalling_.

“Dad,” Butters whispered as he shook him gently. “Dad, wake up.”

Stephen jumped and woke up with a grunt. He had a weird, distant look in his eyes, and his face was flushed. “Nng...Butterrrs?” His words were slurred, too.

Butters stood up straight. “H-Heya, dad. Look, before you say anything-"

"You're late." His dad put his face in his hands.

"I know. I know, I know, I'm late. I understand if you wanna g-ground me, but please don't-"

" _Please, shut up_."

Butters flinched. Stephen let out a deep sigh as he sat up, then looked his son with hard eyes. "Um...what?" Butters asked quietly. He nervously rubbed the back of his neck trying to wonder if he heard him right. His dad sounded extremely annoyed there, and the deep grogginess of his voice was unsettling.

"I told you to shut up, right?" Butters didn't reply because he was scared of would happen if he did. "You just like seeing your old man fail, don't ya?"

Butters shook his head silently.

"Why do you have to be so"--Stephen tightened his jaw and clenched his fists--" _so goddamn_ disobedient all the time, huh?! No matter what I do, you never fucking listen to me! I have to keep grounding you, keep sending you to your room, keep yelling! You just never follow directions, Leopold!" He was starting to sound more exasperated than anything.

Butters ignored the fact that his dad just used his real name, which he very rarely did, and focused more on the fact that his dad was drunk and screaming in his face. "Dad, y-you're acting weird. You drank a lot of beer." He said it slowly and as non-threatening as possible because, while his father would never actually hit him, he just wanted things to calm down.

"Do you hate me? Is that it? You think I'm a bad dad?"

"I never said-"

"THEN WHY DO YOU NEVER LISTEN TO ME?!" Stephen was breathing hard, and the smell of alcohol on his breath made Butters a little dizzy. "Is it so you can prove to your stupid friends that I'm a piece of shit dad? A dad that can't teach his fifteen-year-old son how to _fucking_ behave?!" He shut his eyes for a bit before walking away towards the fireplace (they've never used it), leaning on it as if he was gonna faint. Butters thought for a second that his dad was okay now. "You know she left because of you, right?"

Or not. Butters' heart stopped when he realized he was talking about his mom. The day she left played in his head like a flashback. Butters had just turned fourteen, and he was sitting on the stairs because he couldn't bare watching his mother walk out the door. She had a single suitcase, a nice outfit (the blue dress Butters liked), a full face of makeup, and she left without a word. His parents were arguing the night before, but they've argued plenty of times before. What was said in the argument that made his mom leave without saying goodbye? His dad, who had been watching TV as if nothing was wrong, went out an hour later and didn't come back until midnight. It was like that for a couple of weeks--Stephen went out and ignored Butters, then he was back to normal. He was a bit stricter than before, but Butters didn't question him. Perhaps he was trying to make up for lack of a second parental figure.

_Plus, he must be very stressed. Yes. He's just stressed._

But Butters' dad looked more than stressed at the moment. He looked spiteful, irritated, and any other word for when someone was full of hate. Butters' dad looked like he hated him. 

"Ya know, when she got pregnant, I told her to abort it? Did she ever tell you that?" 

Oh my god. 

"We were young and we weren't even married yet, so it would be stupid to just have a baby. I told her to abort it, that no one had to know, but she didn't listen."

Butters didn't understand why his father was telling him this. He felt like he was about to cry. What else was he supposed to do after being told that his dad didn't want him? Or _it_. "P-Please don't say stuff like that."

"You don't like hearing the truth, son?!" Stephen stomped over to Butters and put his hands on his shoulders. "Now you understand why I'm so fucking pissed off?! Everything would be fine if you weren't here! We'd actually be happy! She left me with a kid I don't even fucking want, and I can't teach him _jack shit_!" Butters sniffled and pursed his lips, trying not to panic because his dad was shaking him. "Too scared to say anything, Butters?! This is exactly what I mean; you're a fucking _pussy bitch_! You have nothing to say after you RUINED EVERYTHING?! WHY DIDN'T SHE JUST LISTEN TO ME, BUTTERS?! SHE NEVER _FUCKING_ LISTENED TO ME!"

Butters let out a choked sob, feeling the tears fall down his cheeks. He really didn't want to cry in front of his dad. Somehow, this was hurting way more than falling out of a shopping cart. Words weren't supposed to hurt this much, were they? 

All of a sudden, Stephen loosened his grip as he watched his son cry. Even when he slowed his breathing and put his hands down, Butters still didn't look at him. "Oh, Butters, I..." he trailed off. He tried to take a step forward but Butters backed away as quick as he could. He didn't seem to care about crying anymore, because now he was straight up weeping into his hands. "Son, please. _Please_ look at me." Butters couldn't. "I-I didn't mean it. You _know_ I didn't mean it."  

Butters only cried more as he ran up the stairs.

“Wait! I’m sorry!”

He just kept running, not stopping until he was safe inside his room with the door locked. And when he was, he plopped down on his bed and sobbed into his pillow. His dad’s words kept echoing in his ears. Butters was making a weird gasping noise, which he made whenever he cried really hard. It was loud, and Butters hoped his dad didn't hear him. He hasn't done it in a while, and he felt like a kid again. At least when he was a kid, his mom was still here and his dad wasn't saying such hurtful things. His dad wasn't drinking so much that he lost control of his temper. His dad hardly drank at all. 

That's when it hit Butters.

Of course...it was the _beer_.

It's not like his dad never drank, he did it sometimes back in the day, especially when Butters' mom left. Even then, he's never drank this much before in such a short period of time. And it clearly wasn’t doing him any good. Butters has seen what too much alcohol did to people sometimes--Stan and Stan’s dad were two prime examples of that. Even if his own dad wasn't _#1 BEST IN THE WORLD_ , he would never say those things to Butters when he was sober.

Butters took deep breaths, calming himself down as he tried to be rational. In reality, he wanted to run back downstairs and hug his dad because both of them really needed one. Apologize for running away. Tell his dad that he knew he didn’t mean it. Tell him to throw away every can of beer in the damn house. But Butters couldn’t do that. Firstly, his dad needed time to cool off; Secondly, he was probably too stubborn to throw away the beer. He might have thought that it was his fault and that the alcohol had nothing to do with it.

It's fine though. It's fine because Butters is gonna fix this. He knows what he has to do, even when he doesn't know how he's gonna do it yet.

 

* * *

 

Butters snapped out of whatever trance he was in when his phone dinged. He recognized the noise as a text message, and wondered who the heck was texting him at this hour? It’s nearly two in the morning!

**Kenny: happen to be up past ur bedtime?**

He smiled. Kenny was the only one who could text him _any_ time of the day.

**Butters: Yup**

**Kenny: u rebel :)**

**Butters: Well why are YOU up?**

**Kenny: i was thinkin**

**Butters: About?**

**Kenny: you**

_Oh._ Butters blushed and reread that one word over and over again. Kenny was thinking about him? Him, of all people? What exactly was he thinking about? Maybe he had those weird dreams too--the one where they’re dancing--because Butters has those a lot. Before he could think to reply with “Same,” his phone dinged again.

**Kenny: freaked me the fuck out when you ran out like that. evrything ok?**

Oh. Right. Makes sense. That's probably for the best because just using "Same" as a reply to that would be weird....

**Butters: I’m so SO sorry. I forgot I had to do something. I overreacted that’s all. I really wanted to hang with you some more, but I couldn’t. Sorry :(**

**Kenny: it ok. do u mind telling me what u forgot to do?**

**Butters: Maybe some other time**

**Kenny: no worries. hows mr stotch?**

Butters had a series of war flashbacks from whatever took place yesterday. He really wanted to tell Kenny how he was feeling, but…

**Butters: He’s good. He didn’t ground me or anything, so that’s good**

**Kenny: good**

**Butters: good**

**Kenny: soooooo gooooood**

**Butters: LOL. Okay okay really though, I’m sorry. Hopefully, that can help you sleep at night :)**

**Kenny: oh it will. but i kinda want to talk some more**

Butters would love that. Problem is, he hasn’t slept at all and he has something to do. For the past fifteen hours, he’s been staring at the ceiling thinking about random stuff. Kenny was one of them.

**Butters: You know I got church in the morning**

**Kenny: ew u still go to church?**

**Butters: Yup**

**Kenny: alright fine. promise well talk when ur done?**

**Butters: Pinky swear**

**Kenny: good night**

**Butters: Good night!! :)**

Shoving his phone back under the pillow, Butters got out of bed and stretched his arms. He ought to be asleep by now, but he had other stuff to worry about. He opened his door and tiptoed to his dad’s room. Luckily, Stephen was asleep, which meant that he could go through with his plan.

The beer wasn’t in the fridge; He would’ve seen it by now. That meant that his dad was hiding it somewhere, and hopefully, that somewhere wasn’t in his bedroom. Butters looked through all the cupboards but later figured that they wouldn’t be in there. He's the one who organizes them, so why would his dad put it there? There certainly wasn’t anything in the oven (which Butters checked to be sure). He went into the living room to check there. He dug his hands in the cushions, checked the drawers, and even in the bookshelf. Nothing. But then he put his hand under the couch.

_Bingo._

Butters felt at least five full beer cans, some still cold. It’s not like he could just take all of them. Surely his dad would know who did it if that happened. He had to take things slowly. So he rolled a can out from under the couch, towards him. Glaring at the evil alcoholic beverage, he held it tightly and went back upstairs. His dad was still asleep, thank god. The operation was a success! Once Butters was back in his room, he rolled the beer can under his bed, heard it hit the wall, then exhaled. He crawled back under his covers and fell asleep soon after. Doing that made it a lot easier to sleep, he found.

Stephen Stotch wasn’t a perfect dad, and he didn’t always treat Butters great. But Butters preferred that to whatever monster came out yesterday. Things were going to start changing _now_ before they got worse. Progress will be slow, but it’ll all get better in the end. It always does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: I appreciate this chapter much more after editing it ^^'


	3. Mondays Aren't That Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tweek Tweak didn't really have any friends, unless you counted his boyfriend. Luckily, Butters didn't put his hand down that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alt title: butters and tweek friendship fluff

Mondays were brutal. At least, that’s what everyone else said. Butters liked Mondays because it was the fresh start of a brand new week. Besides, he was excited to see what life was gonna bring him after what happened yesterday. 

Butters and his dad didn’t go to church, thank god. He just found him sitting on his bed with his face in his hands, sighing. Butters sat down next to him, and hesitantly rubbed his back. “I-It’s okay, dad,” he said. 

Stephen rubbed his temple and looked at his son. “I’m so sorry, Butters. I drank too much and said things I didn’t mean.”

“I know. It’s okay.”

For the first time in forever, Butters’ dad smiled at him. It wasn’t condescending or forced; It was a genuine, heartfelt smile. Butters was surprised, but wrapped his arms around his father. 

They ended up getting takeout and eating it in the living room, watching a sitcom and laughing at the corny jokes. His dad asked how school was going, and Butters said that it was good. Things were so scarily perfect, and Butters felt like he was going to wake up from a dream. 

“I’m going to be better, Butters,” his dad said, just as Butters was going up the stairs. “I promise.”

Butters wished his dad would stop looking at him like that. He felt guilty even though it wasn’t really his fault. But it wasn’t his dad’s fault either. “Thank you, dad. Good night.”

It seemed like the whole incident—Stephen getting drunk and all—was years ago. And Butters knew that  as long as he didn’t drink again, everything will be okay. Maybe he didn’t have to worry about hiding beers anymore if that’ll be the case. Still, Butters figured that his dad wouldn’t need them either way, so what was the harm in hiding them? 

 

* * *

 

There weren’t a lot of schools in South Park. That meant, most of the time if not all, you grew up with the same people. At least until after high school, where everyone got the hell out of town. Butters was always happy to see the same people he’s known since preschool, even if they didn’t talk to him. However, that also meant being an outcast in preschool set you up for being an outcast until you die. 

“Does anyone know Tweek Tweak’s address?”

In Ms. Simmons’ US History class, nearly everyone raised their hand. 

“Would any of you be kind enough to give him his schoolwork?”

Butters didn’t mind, so he kept his hand up. He looked around to see that he was the only one who still did. Cowering under everyone else’s stares, he tried to put it down, but wasn’t quick enough. Ms. Simmons didn’t seem at all fazed. Welcome to South Park High School, where almost everyone’s an asshole! “See me after class, Butters.”

The boy sighed, earning a bunch of “Sucks for you” and “Sorry, man” from his classmates. He didn’t really understand why so many people hated Tweek. Sure, he was a little spazzy, hard to approach, loud, insecure, paranoid, aggress- Oh _.  _

But, according to Ms. Simmons (whose eyes were suspiciously tainted red), Tweek wasn’t here all week last week, and he’s already in danger of failing.  _ Someone _ had to give him his work. 

He and Tweek hung out a lot in elementary school, but were never very close. If Butters had money and time to spare, he’d pop into his parents’ coffee shop to say hi…and order a nice cup of hot chocolate. Tweek wasn’t the easiest person to talk to, and always ended up forgetting Butters’ order and screaming when he got it wrong. 

Butters rang the doorbell and was met with the face of Mrs. Tweak, whose face lit up under her heavily made up face. “Oh my, is that really you, Butters?”

“Hehe, i-it’s me alright,” Butters smiled back. 

“Goodness, it’s been a long time since I’ve gotten a good look at you! Come on in, come on in!” She waved Butters in, who happily followed her. He always appreciated how sweet Mrs. Tweak was, as it reminded him of his own mother back in the day. “What are you doing here?”

Butters took his backpack and raised it up for her to see. “Well, uh, Tweek’s been absent a lot lately, and I just came here to give him his schoolwork.” 

“Well isn’t that sweet! You see, he’s been acting up due to his”—Mrs. Tweak averted her eyes—“mental issues. He’s just up in his room if you want to give it to him directly.”

Before Butters could even process what she said, he grinned, “I’d love to!” Force of habit. He went upstairs and walked through the hallway, figuring that Tweek’s room was the only one with a voice coming from it. He swung open the door without even knocking, and caught Tweek in the middle of pacing around his room. 

“AGH! Who the fuck are you?!”

Butters giggled, “Aw, don’t be silly, Tweek. It’s me, Butters.”

Tweek’s shaking calmed down a bit as he stared at the boy in front of him. “O-Oh, sorry. Hey…Butters.” He walked over to shut the door close. “No offense, but, like, what are you doing in my house?”

“I’m just here to give you your schoolwork, that’s all.”

“S-Schoolwork?”

“Yeah, I just-“

“NO!” Tweek yelled, digging his fingers in his hair. “Do they  _ seriously _ think I’m going back there?! Fuck that!” He suddenly grabbed Butters’ collar, who tried his best to stay calm. “You can go tell those assholes that they’re gonna have to  _ drag _ me to that place!”

Butters blinked, “Oh. Okay.”  _ Stay calm.  _

Tweek didn’t seem all to convinced by the reply, but let go of his shirt. He was still shaking, though. “Great! Cool! A-And now that you have nothing to give me, you might as well leave, right? I mean, for all I know, they probably sent you here to  _ spy _ on me or something!”

“They didn’t,” Butters smiled. Tweek rubbed his arms and avoided eye contact. 

He knew that he could just leave and never have to see Tweek Tweak again (at least until he got a craving for some damn fine hot chocolate). But then, Butters remembered how everyone in class acted that morning. “Um…actually—a-and I hope you don’t mind this—is it alright if I hang out with you? For just a little bit?”

All that could be heard was Tweek's breathing speeding up. He spun around and clenched his fists, as if that was the most pervasive question he’s ever heard. “ _ What? _ ”

“Is it-?”

“No no no no no don’t you  _ dare _ say it again!” Tweek waved his hands wildly. He glanced outside his window, then put his ear against the door, then pointed an accusing finger at Butters. “Okay now I  _ know _ you’re a fucking spy! What do they want to know, huh?!”

Butters noticed that Tweek’s pupils were all messed up—one was huge and the other was small. “Jeez, for the last time, I’m not a spy. What’s it gonna take for you to believe me?”

Tweek stomped over to his door. “You can get the fuck out!”

Christ almighty. Now Butters  _ definitely _ saw why so many people hated Tweek. He was approaching a dead end in his weird, sudden quest to become Tweek’s friend, so he had to find another way. “I don’t think you want me to leave?” It sounded like a question. It was. But Tweek didn’t see that. 

“The fuck? Yes, I  _ do _ !”

Butters walked closer, hoping he was doing the right thing. “Are you sure?”

Tweek yelped and ran past him, jumping on the bed and huddling in the corner. “Don’t you come near me, you…you spy! Stalker!” He shut his eyes tightly and started rocking. Was he seriously that scared of Butters, of all people?

“Still not a spy.” Butters tried getting closer to Tweek again, who looked like he was trying to become one with the wall. 

“Yes, you are!”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you fucking-!”

Butters placed his hands on Tweek’s shoulders, making him look up. God, he looked like he was about to cry. “No, I’m not.”

Tweek gazed into his eyes, trying to find even the  _ tiniest _ bit of honesty. He must’ve found a lot of it because he stopped shaking and looked at his hands. The fingertips were bright red, and it almost looked…pretty? It fit his skin color. But that might be from him biting his nails so much…. “Jesus, I’m so fucked. It’s no wonder everybody hates me.”

“Oh, Tweek.” Butters sat on the bed next to him. “People like you.”

“Who?” 

“Hmm, let me think… _ Craig _ .”

Tweek looked to the side and blushed. 

“Who else?” Butters put his finger to his chin and looked at the ceiling. “I mean, I guess there’s always me, right?”

 

* * *

 

Maybe Tweek wasn’t that hard to talk to; Butters found it got easier as time went on. This was good, since that meant he was getting more comfortable. Butters still had to be very careful though, always making sure to look Tweek in the eye and  _ stay calm _ . 

No wonder Tweek loved Craig so much. 

“Favorite color?” Butters asked, idly playing with the fidget spinner from Tweek’s desk. 

“Hm?” Tweek looked up, even though he heard what was said. Butters still repeated himself for his sake. “Oh, u-um…shit, I don’t know! Err…b-blue?” He started blushing again. “I guess blue’s p-pretty cool, right”

Butters almost smirked, “That’s cute.”

“WHAT?!”

“Oh, nothing. And yeah, blue’s a pretty color.” Maybe he was being “cute” himself, since that was the color of Kenny’s eyes. Actually, they were more like teal, but same family. “Do you want to come up with a question now?”

“D-Dude, that’s just too much PRESSURE!” Tweek started to tug on his hair, making Butters gently grab his hands to make him stop. 

“Okay, okay, don’t worry about it.” Butters looked over at the pillow, which had a dry bloodstain on it. “So, are you seriously never coming back to school again?”

Tweek tensed up and slowly looked at Butters. “I just…I mean…I don’t know, okay! I really  _ do _ fucking hate it there, a-and my parents aren’t stopping me. B-But Craig wants me to stay, and I don't know what  _ you _ think yet...and- JESUS CHRIST WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT?!”

Butters didn’t realize he was smiling like an idiot and apologized. He was happy that Tweek was going to take his opinion into consideration. “To be honest”—he rubbed his knuckles together, a habit he thought he broke years ago—“I’d be a little sad. I know we just became friendly and all, but I’m not that close to a lot of people, you know? I guess I could just visit your house, but it wouldn’t be the same.”

A feeling of guilt suddenly overwhelmed Tweek, so he started hyperventilating. Again. 

“Oh, jeez. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, I was just being honest.”

“I-I know.” Tweek calmed himself down quickly (much to his own surprise). “And h-hey, don’t feel like you need to lie to me just to make me feel good. I’m trying to get better at that, so…you know.”

Butters nodded, a small smile on his face. “Alright. Favorite food?”

“Er...coffee?”

Butters chuckled. “No, it’s not.”

“What do you  _ mean _ ?! I drink it everyday!”

“Now that doesn’t mean it’s your favorite.”

Tweek hugged his knees and tried to think. It’s like he hadn’t had real food in forever, which might be true. “I think I like pizza.’”

“Ooh, why, does Craig like pizza?” Butters grinned.

“What? NO! I-I mean... I don’t know!” When Butters raised his eyebrows, Tweek sighed in defeat.  “M-Maybe.”

“Aww,” Butters gushed. “Anyway, I just  _ love  _ sweets! Like, me and my mom used to go out for ice cream every Sunday after church. W-We don’t do it a lot anymore, though.”

“Oh, uh, that sucks.”

Butters wanted to add that he and his mom hadn't even seen each other in almost two. He probably would’ve also added that he and his dad might try that again in the future. But he didn’t After all, they just became friends, so he’d have to save the personal stuff for much later.

The doorbell rang, making both boys jump.

His mother’s voice could be heard all the way from upstairs.  “Oh my, is that really you, Craig?”

_ Craig? _

“Yup. It’s me.”

Butters gasped and shook Tweek’s arm, who suddenly went pale. “Craig! If this isn’t a perfect time to show up, huh?”

Tweek shot up and locked his door, making Butters watch him in confusion. “O-Oh my god. Oh my god. Sh-shit. What? I…” The doorknob wiggled, and Tweek screamed. “AGH GO AWAY!”

“Dude, it’s just me,” Craig’s monotone voice was heard. 

“Y-You can’t come in right now! Come back later or something!”

Craig sighed deeply, “You do this every time.”

Butters stood up and walked over to Tweek. “What’s the problem? Why don’t you let him in?” It seemed like Tweek himself didn’t know the answer, as he just whined and blocked the door. “C’mon, Tweek, I know you want to let him in here.”

“What the fuck? Who’s in there with you?”

“Nobo- HEY WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Tweek tried to stay stuck to the door as Butters tried to pull him away. 

Butters wasn’t that strong, especially compared to Tweek. But he was being a good friend, and good friends force each other to see their boyfriends. For a quick second, he wondered if Tweek would do that for him when he and Kenny started dating. Or... _ if _ . Finally, Butters managed to pull Tweek away, and Craig opened the door. 

His eyes instantly went to Butters, who was intimidated by his eyes—they were cold and gray. He and Craig never really talked, even in elementary school. But, from what he remembered, Craig was kind of a jerk (not as bad as Cartman, but still). 

Craig’s eyes suddenly softened. “If I knew you had someone over, I would’ve gotten more food.” He set the bag of McDonalds on Tweek’s desk, not hearing Butters’ relieved sigh. Oh, he’s not bad. Not bad at all, in fact. A new friend, perhaps?

Tweek rubbed his wrists nervously. “I-I’m sorry.  _ S-Sorryyyy _ .”

“What are you apologizing for?” Craig furrowed his eyebrows. “I just wish I got extra food for Butters. I mean, look at him, he’s fucking anorexic.”

Okay, so maybe he’s still kind of a jerk. But at least he was cool enough to think of Butters’ health? Right?

Craig pulled out a box of chicken nuggets from the bag and handed it to Tweek, mentioning something about it not being poisoned. He looked over at Butters, “Whatcha doing here?”

“Uh...um...” Butters bit his lip and looked down. His eyes were so intense, Jesus Christ. “You see, I was gonna bring Tweek his homework, and I guess we just kind of hit it off. He’s a lot of fun to talk to.” Butters hoped he didn’t sound sarcastic. He wasn’t trying to be, but Craig was making him nervous. 

“Oh. Cool.” He sat on the bed, and Tweek quickly joined him. 

Butters just kind of stared at them for a while. He should leave, since Tweek would be better with Craig. Plus, Craig hardly even knew him (and he was a little scary). Yeah...he should go. Then, just as he turned around, Tweek spoke up.

“Hey, w-where are you going?”

Butters looked back and tried to smile. “I was just leaving. Don’t mind me.” 

Craig shrugged,“You can stay. It doesn’t matter to us.”

You can stay. I can stay! Butters grinned and jumped on the bed with them, making Tweek squeak in surprise. “Thanks!” Craig nodded and Tweek smiled, handing him a chicken nugget. He admired it. It was cold, mushy, and probably had some horse meat it. But his new friend gave it to him, so of course he ate it. 

What a way to start this beautiful week.


	4. Put Your Head on My Shooouldeeerr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One thing that Butters Stotch and Tweek Tweak have in common is that they apologize when they really don't need to. Oh, and everyone at school sucks, go figure. At least Butters has fifties music to make everything better.

“Dammit.” Craig casually threw the Wii remote on the floor, making Tweek yelp when it made contact. “It’s not fair when you guys are double-teaming me.”

Butters giggled. It was more than exciting to be playing dirty in video games. Whenever he played with Stan, Kyle, or even Kenny, his niceness didn’t really get him far. He understood why Cartman liked being such a jerk now, not that he’d ever defend it. 

“Maybe you’re just bad,” Tweek smiled playfully. He put down his controller (letting Butters kill his character without mercy), and played with a loose thread on Craig’s shirt. “W-Why don’t you cut this already?”

Craig shrugged, “ _You_ can cut it if it bothers you so much.” Tweek ran to the kitchen to get scissors, nearly bumping into the coffee table. “Butters, you know he’s not fighting back, right?”

“I know.”

Tweek came back, large scissors in hand, and sat down next to his boyfriend. He carefully got hold of the thread, snipped it off, and sighed with relief. 

“Better?” Craig cracked a smile. 

“Better,” Tweek blushed. He couldn’t help it. But those feelings were quickly pushed aside when a ringing noise was heard. “AGH! WHAT IS THAT?”

Butters paused the game and pulled out his phone. “Don’t worry, it’s just my phone ringing, that’s all.” He gave a reassuring smile, and Tweek tried to give him one in return. Butters looked down and made a weird noise when he saw that it was Kenny. The other two boys looked at him in concern. “S-Sorry, I”—the phone was still ringing—“I gotta take this real quick!”

He ran to the kitchen to take the call, bumping into the coffee table and spilling a bit of Tweek’s coffee (he screamed, of course). Someone really needed to move that. 

Butters cleared his throat, then finally answered. “Hey, Kenny, what’s up?”

“Jesus, I’ve been trying to talk to you all day.” Kenny exhaled.

“W-What?”

“You didn't talk to me or anyone else at school, you didn’t sit with us at lunch, and you just ran off-campus when school ended. I tried texting you, but you didn’t answer me. You weren’t in your bedroom, so I tried to talk to your dad, but he slammed the door in my face.”

Butters chewed on his bottom lip, and he felt like he was choking for some reason. He just had to make Kenny worried _again_. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I should’ve told you I wasn’t home in the first place. G-Gee, Ken, I’m sorry. I don’t-“

“Hey, calm down,” Kenny laughed softly. “I was just really worried, that’s all.”

Yeah, that didn’t make Butters feel better. Still, he realized that his heart was speeding up, and scolded himself for being so indecisive. Was he guilty or happy that Kenny always worried about him? Had to be a weird combination of both. 

“Yeah, I’m sor- I mean…yeah.” Butters cleared his throat. “Uh, anyway, I’m at Craig’s house.” Kenny didn’t reply, and Butters looked down at his screen. He was still there. “Kenny…y-you there?”

“Huh?” Kenny said, clearly startled. “Oh, I’m here. So, when you say Craig, do you mean Craig _Tucker_?”

Butters smiled and nodded, then remembered that he was on the phone. “Yup! We were actually just playing-“

“Why?”

Butters’ smile faltered at Kenny’s…accusing tone? That’s what it sounded like. The same tone of voice his dad would use if he was out a little too long. “F-Funny story,” he tried to laugh. “You see, I had to give Tweek his schoolwork, and I guess we just ended up becoming friends, and-“

“Wait, Tweek _Tweak_?”

“Yes,” Butters replied slowly. He was a little annoyed that he was getting interrupted. “Is there something wrong?”

“No,” Kenny replied a little too quickly, “I just…never took you as the type of person to hang out with them.”

_Well, gee._  Butters didn’t think it was meant to be an insult but still found himself being offended. He kind of hoped it was jealousy making Kenny act like this, as selfish as it sounded. But it’s a lot better than the other option, which he feared was true.

“You don’t like Craig,” he concluded with a disappointed sigh. At least, he thought that was the problem. Butters didn’t like it, but he just wanted to understand Kenny. He always tried to understand Kenny because Kenny always tried to understand _him_. 

“Kind of,” the other boy sighed. “I mean, that’s not it, though.”

_This is ridiculous._  “Then _what_ is it, exactly?” Butters asked, trying to hide his frustration. “C’mon, Ken, you can tell me.” The line was silent again, and Butters wanted to punch a rock. 

“Tweek.”

“What?”

“Tweek is the problem,” Kenny said. 

Okay, this is a whole lot worse than Craig. Awesome. “You…don't like Tweek?” He hoped that he misunderstood this time. 

“No, no, it’s not that. I don’t really care for him,” Kenny answered honestly. “It’s just, ya know, everyone else seems to. He doesn’t really have the best rep at school.” 

Ohhhh Butters knew. He knew all right. He really didn’t need to hear this from anyone. “So? H-He’s my friend, Kenny. We all talk to Eric, and everyone hates him.”

“Yeah, but Cartman’s hate is based on fear. Like, I’m not scared of him, but he’s a fucking psycho. And _he_ doesn’t get beat up and teased and shit.”

Butters froze. “ _What?_ ”

Kenny was quiet for a bit, then regretted everything. “I-I mean…wait, just forget what I said.”

Forget?! How?! “I’m sorry, am I just supposed to act like that’s okay?”

Kenny let out a nervous laugh. “I didn’t say it was okay, Buttercup.“

“Don’t ‘Buttercup’ me, Kenny!” Butters yelled, then shut up when he realized that Tweek and Craig probably heard that. He repeated himself in a hushed voice. “I can’t believe how mean you’re being. Tweek is my friend, and you just expect me to ignore that?”

“Look, I’m sorry, but-“

Butters didn’t want to hear it. He hung up. 

He put his phone in his jacket pocket and leaned against the counter. That choking feeling was coming back, but it felt more painful this time. For some reason, he wanted to call Kenny back. Lord, wasn’t his mind a freaking mess. 

Sure, he and Tweek have only been friends for three days now, but he should’ve known that Tweek was being tormented at school. It made a lot of sense looking back, but he just assumed it was Tweek’s mental issues. That’s what Mrs. Tweak said, after all. And even if they just started being friends, how has he never noticed it. Has no one except Kenny noticed? Does Craig even know? Did Tweek ever plan on telling him? 

“Y-You okay?”

Butters looked over to see Tweek standing in the doorframe, twiddling his thumbs. “Heya, Tweek. Um, I was just, talking to my…dad. Yeah.” 

“I heard you yell Kenny’s name. A-Are you two fighting or something?”

“Yeah…my bad, I was talking to Kenny. We were just messing around.” Butters is a terrible liar, but Tweek didn’t seem to notice. Even if Tweek wanted him to be honest, he was still worried about triggering some sort of anxiety attack. 

“Oh, alright. I was just making sure. W-Will you be leaving soon?” 

Butters giggled. “Why? Do you want me to leave?”

“Jeez, s-sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I was just saying th-that you don’t have to hang around here if you don’t want to. I’m sor- mmph!”

Butters had run over to Tweek and clamped a hand over his mouth. “I’m just messing with you.” He smiled. Or tried. He wasn’t feeling so good. “Let’s play another round, okay?”

When Tweek wanted to talk about it, he’d talk about it. Hopefully. 

 

* * *

 

Butters ignored all of Kenny’s text messages. They were all just a bunch of _It’s not that big a deals_ and _Forget what I saids_. Butters couldn’t believe him. Kenny was supposed to be the nice one, wasn’t he? He wasn’t perfect, but he was pretty morally adept compared to a lot of the people in South Park. He was always looking out for Butters, doing nice things for him, and he was smarter than he let on. 

Even if he said he didn’t care for Tweek, he already knew that he and Butters were friends. At least, he should’ve figured it, right? Either way, this is Butters—the kid who cares about _everyone_ , even when he doesn't like them. Eric’s a great example. 

Butters thought about all the stupid schemes he and Cartman would get into when they were kids, smiling to himself as he walked up to the school’s main entrance. Then he stepped inside, and whatever good mood he forced himself into decided to dip. 

A lot of people were staring at him. It didn’t look super judgmental; They were all blank and curious like he was a stranger. He looked at his shoes to try and ease his anxieties and told himself that, Hey, maybe he looks weird today. That had to be it. 

Yeah, right. He knew exactly why everyone was staring at him. Gee, word sure travels fast in this town. 

Even Stan and Kyle were acting a little weird, but Cartman was his usual asshole self. Except, all of his insults were targeted specifically at the Butters this time. 

“So, how are the gaylords doing lately?” 

It took Butters a long while to realize what Cartman said, and looked at Stan and Kyle when he did. They were too busy complaining about how complicated girls are. “O-Oh, they’re doing just fine. Thank you.” He went back to eating his dry salad. 

Cartman tightened his jaw, annoyed at the tame response he got. Then he plastered on a large smile. “Really now? Ya know, I heard some strange rumors about those two.”

Butters swallowed, “W-What kind of rumors?”

“Oh, just gossip; Nothing to worry about.” Butters nodd- “Like—and you didn’t hear this from me—they have a little fetish about turning straight boys gay. Really weird, huh?”

“I…guess so.” Butters looked at his other friends for help. Nothing.  

Cartman slammed his palms of the table and widened his eyes as if he just _couldn’t believe this gossip that he heard around the school._  “Yeah, it’s so crazy, right? Like, what kind of a freako would do that?” Then he smirked and nodded Butters, “but you got nothing to worry about, right?”

Butters stared at him and pursed his lips. He didn’t know of Cartman was joking or if he actually knew. To be honest, he didn’t try too hard at hiding his sexuality, it was just the whole Kenny thing that made things weird. Just as he was about to say yes, Kyle suddenly decided to butt in. 

“Was that supposed to be funny?” He asked tiredly. 

Cartman just made a face and played with his mashed potatoes, which was more potato than actual mash. “Not my fault you have a shitty sense of humor, Kahl. It’s probably the Jew in you.”

That really set him off, because now it was screaming match between the two. Butters looked over to Stan, who looked like he wanted to kill himself, and figured it was safe to go. He slowly got up (accidentally leaving his tray), grabbed his backpack, and got the heck out of there. 

Butters ran in the hallway, earning more looks from the people who ate there. He really didn’t know what he was doing, but his brain was just telling him to _flee my child._  And as he opened the doors, he took in the fresh air and closed his eyes. Much better. 

“C-Craig, we’re gonna get caught!” A hushed voice exclaimed. 

Butters looked over to see where it was coming from, as it sounded all too familiar. He saw that it was none other than Tweek, who was talking to Craig with wild hands. Craig’s back was turned, but Butters could stop see his stoic stare. 

“We won’t if we leave now.” He grabbed Tweek’s arm, who stubbornly stayed in place. “Seriously, babe? You want to stay here?”

“W-Well, no, I-“ Tweek finally noticed Tweek watching them, and screamed. “HOLY SHIT BUTTERS WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Butters jumped at the volume of his friend’s voice and put his hands up. “I’m sorry, Tweek.” He looked over at Craig, who turned around. “What are you guys doing out here?”

“Ditching,” Craig said nonchalantly. “Wanna come with us?”

Tweek turned into ever more of a hot mess at that, and his eye started twitching. His pupils were still really messed up, Butters couldn’t help but notice. “Craig, are you _crazy_?! I didn’t say we were leaving, so-“

“We’re leaving,” Craig said sternly. 

“But-“

“No. We’re leaving _now._  Butters, are you coming with us or not?”

Butters gave Tweek a sorry look before nodding and tried to catch up with the two as they started to leave. 

They all made their way to Craig’s car, which wasn’t even that far away, and Butters wanted to ask why Craig can drive when he’s underage. But whatever. He didn’t care that much. “Where are we going?”

Craig adjusted he mirrors, reminded Tweek to buckle up, and started the engine. “I don’t know. Maybe McDonald's, or something.” And that was that. No one said anything during the drive, and some basic pop song played on the radio. 

When they pulled up, Craig clicked his tongue, “Fucking fantastic.” The other two looked up to see that the line of the drive-thru was upset long. On a Wednesday, too, so that was a little strange. “I’m gonna go inside.” Craig parked, promised he’d be back, then left. 

Tweek instantly turned off the radio, and Butters didn’t know whether to be worried or relieved. 

Butters scratched his face, but it wasn’t itchy. “I’m really happy you came to school today.”

“I shouldn’t have. I-I should’ve just stayed home.”

“Don’t say that,” Butters said sweetly. “I know that it s-sucks, but it’s really brave of you.” He saw Tweek flinch. “I know you meant it when you said you don’t like school, so it really does mean a lot to me. I’m sure it means a lot to Craig, too.”

Tweek nodded, “It does. I-I mean, that’s what he t-told me. I just… _god,_  I hate it.”

“I know you do.”

“No,” Tweek huffed, getting out of his seat to face Butters, “you don’t. You and Craig are the only ones who actually treat me that a fucking person! L-Like, 99% of the kids there are dicks, and they don’t care because _everyone’s_ a dick here, so why should _they_ have morals, right?!”

“I know what you mean.”

Tweek groaned. “S-stop acting like you always get me, Butters! I know I’m fucking crazy, okay? And y-you don’t know what I have to go through!”

“I do know.”

“STOP-“

“Remember that phone call from yesterday?” Tweek shut his mouth and nodded at Butters’ question. “Kenny told me why you weren’t coming to school and I got mad.”

Tweek pursed his lips. “At me?”

“Of course not. I got mad a Kenny.”

Tweek’s eyes softened and he slowly sat back down. “W-What did he say exactly?” Butters was quiet, so Tweek looked back to see what was going on, only to see him trying to make his way to the front seat. Craig’s car was pretty small, so the move wasn’t the smoothest.

“You were getting bullied, people were hurting you…stuff like that. He acted like it was no big deal. Like I’m not supposed to care, but I _do_.” He hugged his knees and looked over at Tweek. “Sorry I didn’t ask why you didn’t come to school.”

Tweek looked away and tried to copy his friend, but stopped because his legs were too damn long. “It’s not like it’s your fault.”

“Well, you’re my friend, so I just felt it was my responsibility.”

“But I didn’t tell you. How could you have known?”

Butters shrugged after thinking about it. “Don’t have a clue. I just always feel guilty.” 

“R-Right. I can relate to that,” Tweek said as he tried to curl up. He was still feeling pretty bad and didn’t want to talk about it anymore. 

Just as Butters was about to comfort him again, his phone dinged. He looked over at Tweek, who surprisingly didn’t flinch at the sound, and looked at his phone. 

**Kenny: stop ignoring me**

Butters rolled his eyes. He’s not stupid—he knows talking about this was the mature thing to do, but he didn’t feel like talking to Kenny right now. He needed to cool off a bit so he doesn’t say anything stupid when they meet up. Besides, Kenny already made it clear how he felt about the entire situation.  

And the bad part is, even though Butters just couldn’t _stand_ Kenny at the moment, he was still very much in love with him. Like he’d ever stop, though, right? And Kenny still plagued his mind 24/7, even if it was to think about how stupid he was being. 

Freaking Kenny McCormick. 

All of a sudden, an idea popped in Butters’ head. He grabbed hold of his phone again, went to his music app, and searched for a specific song. It was one he’d slow danced with Kenny to…in his dreams, that is. 

_Okay, don’t. Don’t think about him right now. Think about the other blonde kid sitting right next to you._

He pressed PLAY and smiled when he saw that Tweek actually reacted. He moved his head to the counts airily. 

“What are you doing?”

_Put your head on my shoulder,_  Butters mouthed the words as his sweet smile turned into a smirk. Tweek squirmed away fearfully. He should stop with the smirking because it actually seems to scare him. 

_Hold me in your arms, baby._  Butters wrapped his arms around Tweek’s neck and prayed that Craig wasn’t coming back soon. Tweek didn’t really know what to do, so he kept his back straight and eyes forward. 

_Squeeze me oh-so tight._

_Show me that you love me too._

Butters continued lip-synched, and Tweek started getting less scared and more amused. He’d shake his head and laugh softly as if Butters was just doing one of his quirky antics again. Butters was actually feeling a little embarrassed; He felt like he was the male love interest in an old movie trying to get his girl back. But if it made Tweek feel better, he supposed it was worth it. 

Then Tweek’s eyes started to water a bit. 

_Put your head on my shoulder_  
_Whisper in my ear, baby_  
Oh, wait. 

_Words I want to hear, baby_ _  
_ He was crying. 

_Put your-_

Butters stopped when he saw Tweek shake, and let him break down in his arms. If he wasn’t so concerned, Butters would say that it looked perfect, with that sweetly familiar melody playing in the background as the song ended.

It was over. 

“I-I’m sorry, Butters. Jesus, I’m so sorry.”

Butters just rubbed circles on his back and shushed him, like a mother cradling their baby, which wasn’t too far off. There really was nothing to apologize for, but there was no use telling Tweek Tweak that. 

 

* * *

 

It was 10:57 pm and Butters wasn’t exactly all there, but he was still awake. His phone dinged. 

**Tweek: whats that somg called**

**Tweek: song**

**Butters: Put Your Head on My Shoulder by Paul Anka**

**Tweek: i like it**

**Butters: It’s one of my favorites :) I figured you’d like it :)) it always makes me feel better :)))**

**Butters: So are you going to tell Craig why you were crying on me?**

**Tweek: i think he already knows**

**Butters: Oh that’s good I guess**

**Tweek: yeah**

11:04 now. 

**Butters: And Tweek?**

**Tweek: ya**

**Butters: If someone’s bothering you at school, you know you can tell me right?**

**Tweek: u gonna beat them up?**

**Butters: Yes**

**Tweek: dont youll probably die and ill be worried**

Butters laughed out loud. 

**Butters: dont worry**

**Tweek: u met me???**

**Butters: Unfortunately yes ;)**

**Tweek: ignoring that**

**Tweek: plus fighting isnt good for repuatotion trust me**

**Tweek: reputation i mean**

**Butters: You really think I care about reputation? I’m friends with Eric Cartman**

**Tweek: ur friends with him cus ur both assholes**

**Tweek: u desreve eachither**

**Butters: Ewww no. Besides I’m only really an asshole to you :)**

He looked at the time and saw that it was 11:09 pm. Oh yeah, he’ll be sixteen years old in fifty-one minutes. Wow. Butters should probably tell Tweek that, but he was too tired. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *internal screaming*


	5. I Hope That’s Not a Metaphor For Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Butters skips school to spend his birthday with his dad (9/11 be damned). Its a perfect day where nothing bad happens, but perfect days don’t last.

Nowadays, Butters was used to his dreams of Kenny. He had no idea why he was bothered by them at first; they were innocent and beautiful and _so_ much different from the real world. They probably meant something important, but Butters didn’t want to focus on that. They were always dancing to an old song in a ballroom, sometimes empty or sometimes full of unrecognizable faces. Butters was a blushing mess but still managed to keep up with Kenny somehow. Granted, Butters wasn’t the worst dancer in real life (he used to be pretty good), but he lost his groove after the… _incident._

Of course, his alarm had to ruin everything again. Butters groaned loudly and nearly pushed it off his nightstand. At least it was Friday and…oh, it’s his birthday.

Butters always forgot his birthday, even when he was younger. His friends forgot a lot, even Kenny, but it’s not like he wanted to see him anyway. Stupid reoccurring dreams…he’s still mad, no matter how nice the dreams are. His parents used to ground him for celebrating his birthday on a national tragedy, so Butters stopped, and it was natural that they forgot, too. He got over it a long time ago; he’s just another year older. He got out of bed and stretched his back, looking outside his window. The sky was gray, but everything looked unusually calm. Butters dreaded the day snow would return to South Park.

Suddenly, his door swung open, making Butters spin around. His dad was there, a weirdly big smile on his face. “Happy birthday, son!”

Butters widened his eyes. “Dad, y-you remembered?”

“Of course I did,” Stephen said, making his way over to Butters and slapping his back. “How could I forget my son turning sixteen?”

“B-But you said- I mean, today is 9/11.”

“Yup!”

“A lot of people died.”

Stephen just laughed and shook his head. “Oh, Butters, that was years ago. Just because today is the anniversary of a tragic event doesn’t mean we all have to be depressed. You only turn sixteen once, so why don’t we just have fun?”

Butters ignored the weird feeling in the pit of his stomach and smiled. “Well, uh, what did you plan on doing?”

“I was hoping you could take the day off from school and we could go out. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

Go out with his dad. Butters couldn’t remember the last time he did that and wondered if that was even a thing they did. “Gee, dad, that sure does! When are we leaving?”

“Well, how ‘bout you get ready and we leave then, okay?”

Butters nodded enthusiastically and watched his dad stroll out the door. He couldn’t wipe the grin off his face, he was so happy. His dad was trying real hard to be better, and he had to admire that. It felt nice to just be around him without being scared. Butters took a shower the night before, so he grabbed some semi-nice clothes to put on, and went to the bathroom to freshen up. When he went downstairs, his dad was sitting on the couch, his shoulders tense. He was staring at Butters, who looked at him worriedly. “Everything okay?”

Stephen smiled, “Oh, sorry, everything’s fine. You ready to go?”

“Mmhmm!”

Butters followed his dad outside and hopped in the car. He forgot how comfortable the seats were. “Hey, dad, i-is it okay if we go get ice cream?”

His dad stared at him. “In the morning?”

“Um, well, I-“

“Just messing with ya, son,” Stephen chuckled. “It’s your special day, after all.”

Butters sighed with relief and sank back into the seat. His phone vibrated (Tweek hated the dings), and looked to see who messaged him.

**Craig: where you at?**

He couldn’t help but smile, feeling a little flattered that Craig messaged him. Yeah, they were friends, but it’s not like he’s ever done it before.

**Butters: Out with my dad**

**Craig: oh**

**Craig: tweek wanted to know**

**Butters: Ah**

“Who are you texting?” Stephen asked, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

“A friend,” Butters smiled, setting his phone on his lap. “He just wanted to know where I was at.”

His dad sighed and his hand tightened around the wheel. “Was it Kenny McCormick?”

Butters blushed and looked at him. Stephen was frowning, but his eyes remained on the road. “N-No. Why would you think that?”

“He’s your friend, isn’t he? And, sorry if this bothers you, but I don’t really like him. Him and those other three. Especially that fat kid, er, what’s his name again?”

“Eric.”

“Yeah, him,” Stephen nodded.

Butters clacked his knuckles—he’s been doing it a lot lately—and looked out the window. They just got into the town area, and he recognized a lot of the shops and little restaurants from when he was a kid. He’s never been in any of them, but looking the signs themselves instantly put him at ease. “It was someone else. He’s…not like them.”

Stephen smiled and actually looked at Butters when he did. “Good.”

“But, I mean…why don’t you like them?”

“I already said why: they do nothing but treat you like garbage.” His dad shook his head and licked his lips. “They’ve always rubbed me the wrong way, even when you were little. And did Kenny ever apologize for hitting you with the ninja star?”

Butters put his fingers to his eye and felt the scar. He totally forgot about that, as traumatizing as it was. “H-He did.” _Three years later…_. And it wasn’t mentioned again after that. Butters wanted to say something like _Oh Dad, they’re nice people,_  but couldn’t bring himself to. “I do see where y-you’re coming from, though.”

Something crossed Stephen’s face. It looked like a smile, but something was off. “Like I said, garbage.”

Butters saw the ice cream shop straight ahead and tried to think about how run-down it looked now instead of his dad’s condescending voice. He thought back to last week when his dad was drunk and yelling at him for a split second. Butters shook his head, trying to be positive. Things are different, remember?

 

* * *

 

When Butters told his dad that he wanted chocolate ice cream, he didn’t expect him to go to the counter and order for him. He felt like normal teenagers would get annoyed, but he was anything but. That’s what his mom did because he was too shy to ask, and whether his dad did this on purpose or not didn’t matter. Stephen came back with a small cup of vanilla ice cream and a large cup of chocolate ice cream. Butters widened his eyes; he’s never been allowed to eat this much sugar in one sitting, even when he was a kid.

“Wowie, dad! Thank you!” He ignored the weird looks he got from the other people in the shop. He didn’t care when he had actual ice cream in his hands.

His dad hummed happily, “Happy birthday, Butters. I’m sorry that ice cream is all I could give you.”

“Are you kidding?! This is the best birthday present ever!” He took a big spoonful of ice cream and practically shoved it in his mouth. He forgot how good this stuff was.

“Well, I have something even better planned.”

“What is it?” Butters asked, mouth full of ice cream.

His dad suddenly broke out into a wide smile and gripped the edge of the table. “Your Mom…might come back soon.”

Butters choked on his spoon, coughing and widening his eyes. His dad just watched with the smile still on his face. Finally, Butters retrieved the utensil that was stuck in his throat, wiped the saliva off his chin, and stared at his dad with a smile that rivaled his. “Really?!”

“Well,” Stephen chuckled (he did that a lot, Butters just noticed), “It’s not set in stone. But we’ve been talking about it for a while now, and she seems much more open to the idea than before.”

“That’s great! Th-That’s more than great!”

 _Great?_ Butters felt like laughing and flying to space only to be dropped back down to earth in a field of flowers. Yes, it was that kind of feeling. He knew he shouldn’t get too excited because he didn’t even know _for sure_ that his mom was coming back, but the possibility that she was filled him with hope.

He had so much to tell her; so many things to catch up on! They could finally be a normal family again!

“Butters? Butters?”

Butters snapped out of it and noticed that he was standing up. Everyone was really looking at him now. He laughed nervously and clenched his fists as he sat back down. No knuckle clacking for him. “Sorry, hehe. I’m just…happy.”

His dad’s face softened. He nodded understandably, “I know. I am, too. You done with your ice cream?”

Butters looked down and didn’t even realize he was finished. His dad didn’t, though, but he was clearly ready to leave. “Yup!” He watched his dad get up before following him, making sure to throw away the trash, and they left the ice cream shop.

“So, er, just how long have you and Mom been talking about this?” He asked, buckling his seat belt.

“Since Monday actually. I was able to get her new phone number and talk her into it.”

“How’d you even find it?”

“Now, now, Butters, do you really need to know all the little details?”

Butters frowned and fiddled with his zipper. “Um, right. Sorry.”

They didn’t say anything the whole drive.

The second Stephen closed the door and Butters took his jacket off, Stephen's cellphone rang. Butters looked behind him to see his dad looking at his screen, smiling. “It’s your mom,” he said before answering. “Hey, sweetheart. Oh, sorry, I mean, Linda.” He looked at Butters and shook his head.

Butters didn’t react to whatever that was and nearly ran up to his dad. “Can I talk to her?”

For some reason, his dad didn’t reply, a worried look replacing the smile. He glanced at his son before making his way to the kitchen, suddenly speaking in a quieter voice. The change in mood made Butter anxious, but he just had to be positive.

He remembered Kyle saying something about the law of attraction, where if you truly want something, the universe would give it to you. He also remembered everyone else calling it bullshit, with Cartman saying it was a “stupid Jewish folktale.” Jewish folktale or not, he really needed all the help he could get.

His dad came back out a couple of minutes later, phone at his side. His eyebrows were furrowed, and he looked at the ground with hard eyes.

“Dad?”

He looked up, and the most forced smile Butters had ever seen appeared on his face. “Good news, your mother made her final decision. She’s coming back next week!”

Yes! Thank you, Mr. Universe!  “Oh, I knew she would!” He should probably ask why his dad looked so depressed just then, but he supposed it didn’t matter now.

For the first time in a long time, Butters went to sleep early that night. It was perfect because his dad went to sleep early, too, which meant he could hide another beer can. It felt wonderful to lay in bed, close his eyes, and just let go. 

That didn’t last long though, because he woke up at 3 a.m. Butters groaned in frustration after he tried and failed to go back to sleep, then got up to turn his desk lamp on. He wasn’t scared of the dark (not anymore at least), but something about 3 a.m. really freaked him out. God, Butters was pretty tired, though. He knew he could play some games on his phone, maybe even see if Tweek or Craig are still alive to chat. Talking to Stan was also a choice since he was always up this late for some reason. And…Kenny…maybe…but those are just things he _could_ do. Instead, he lay down on his bed and stared at the ceiling.

Just as Butters felt like he was about to go to sleep again, a loud noise made him jump. He sat back up and looked around frantically before realizing it was thunder. He crawled over to his window and suddenly noticed how scary it was outside. The large tree outside was being violently harassed by the wind, he saw a flash of lightning outside (or he thought he did, it happened too fast), and clouds covered the sky.

 _Has it always been like that?_ Butters thought.

Mr. Universe isn’t that kind, he guessed. 


	6. Everything Changed, But Nothing Changed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Butters can't help but notice how much everything has changed since last Saturday, but later sees that a lot of those changes didn't happen in the first place.

Butters woke up, confused about why his alarm didn’t wake him up when it was so bright outside. Well, bright for what's obviously going to be a rainy day. He liked getting up pretty early on the weekends since it made the day feel longer. He looked at his phone to see that, not only was it noon, but his alarm _did_ go off. Several times, in fact. Must’ve been a rough night…. He hoped his dad didn’t hear it.

He sat up to put on a shirt, looking at his window. Was it just last week Kenny knocked, tackled him to the floor, and asked if he wanted to push the shopping cart? Was it just last week he rode it for the first time, got hurt, then got taken care of by Kenny? Was it last week when- Butters stopped himself. Last week felt like forever ago, and so much has happened between then and now. As he combed his hair (with his fingers because he didn’t have an actual comb), he told himself that he really needed to get out on his own more. He didn’t need Kenny to enjoy his weekends. He needed to be more… _assertive_ with this kind of stuff.

Assertive he’ll be then. Butters grabbed his phone and sent a message to Tweek.

**Butters: Hey, wanna do something today? Craig can join if he wants. :)**

He sighed and tightened his jaw. He didn’t know why he was so nervous; He was talking to Tweek of all people. After a couple of minutes of staring at a blank screen, he went out to go downstairs.

“Dad?” Butters called as he jogged down the steps. No answer. “Dad, I was wondering if you wanted pancakes or something.” When he reached the floor, he realized that his dad wasn’t in the living room. Butters walked over to the kitchen…he wasn’t there either. This was strange because his dad was always up by this time. Butters stood there, not knowing what to do next, so he looked at his phone. Tweek didn’t respond yet. He slumped and eventually walked to the refrigerator, deciding that he’ll just make pancakes for himself. As he got closer, he saw a pastel green post-it note right below a picture of him when he was three. He squinted to read the messy writing.

**Butters, I went out to do errands. I won’t be home until much later, so be responsible while I’m gone. -Dad**

Of course. He checked his phone again. Nothing. Maybe Tweek was busy doing…something. Butters didn’t feel like having pancakes anymore.

He groaned in frustration at himself. _You know what, I don’t need anyone to enjoy my weekend!_ That’s right, Butters. He practically ran over to get his shoes on, and his jacket of course. Did Butters know where he was going exactly? Uh, well, he had some ideas. Who cares, though? Before he could stop and think about that, he was out of the house.

It was so gray and depressing out, and that certainly wasn’t helping Butters’ current mood. Oh well. As he prayed Kenny wouldn’t be around, he walked over to the town area. He’ll figure out what to do when he gets here.

 

* * *

 

There weren’t a lot of people out today, which made Butters feel both relieved and disappointed. He was hoping Tweek or Craig would be out and about since Tweek _still_ hasn't messaged him back. God, he’s acting like Tweek owes him a reply. _He doesn’t,_  Butters thought. _He doesn’t._ Butters, getting tired of walking, settled on the McDonald's close by. He walked in, and the smell of fries made his mouth water. Oh. He hasn’t eaten anything yet, and he didn’t even realize how hungry he was. Problem was, he didn’t have any money at the moment. But even if he did, he figured he’d lay off the unhealthy food for a bit. McDonald's twice last week, and ice cream just yesterday. His mom used to always tell him that too much junk food will make him fat and ugly. _Oh, his_   _mother_. He actually couldn’t wait to hear her voice again.

After sitting down in a booth all by himself, playing games on his phone so he wouldn’t look too weird, a familiar voice said his name.

“Butters?”

He looked up to see Bebe Stevens holding a large cup of soda, looking weirdly graceful while doing so. He went pale. Bebe and him haven’t talked since middle school, partly because she was one of those familiar blurs that walked past him in the hallway, and partly because she intimidated him. Head cheerleader, resting bitch face, expensive clothes—she reminded Butters of those mean girls from the high school movies. Her blonde hair didn’t help.

“Whatcha doing here?” she asked, snapping Butters out of his gaze. “I thought your dad didn’t let you go outside.” She took a sip of her soda, not breaking eye contact.

“I-I-uh-I…” Butters cleared his throat. “H-He’s been pretty loose lately. And I-I just wanted to be somewhere that, er, wasn’t my house, y-ya know?”

Bebe made a dismissive “hm” and averted her eyes. “Are you waiting for your food?”

“Oh, uh…no. I d-didn’t order anything. No money.”

Bebe raised an eyebrow, “You came to a restaurant when you didn’t have money to buy food?”

“Y-Yeah, but it’s okay because I-“

“You know what, I'll buy you something.”

“But-“

“What do you want?”

Butters tried to process what was happening just now. Why was Bebe was persistent on buying him food? “I mean i-if you really wanna? I-I’ll just have some f-fries, thank you.”

Bebe nodded and set her soda down on Butters’ table. As she walked over to the order line, she pulled out her phone and started texting someone. Probably her friend. Hopefully, that friend replies and doesn’t- Okay, Butters needed to stop that. Minutes later, she came back with a large cup of fries. Instead of handing them back to Butters, she grabbed her soda and jerked to her head to the exit door. “Let’s go.”

Butters froze, “Wait, what?”

“Wendy and Nichole are waiting for us."

Before Butters could say anything else, Bebe turned around to leave, and he reluctantly got up to follow. She was right. Wendy and Nichole, _more_ people he hadn’t spoken to in a long time, were waiting for them by their car. They didn’t look too happy. Wonder why…. Wendy was somewhere in the same boat as Bebe, but Butters does remember Nichole being one of the nicer girls in school.

“Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” Bebe said, suddenly sounding peppy. “Say hi to Butters, you guys.”

“Hi, Butters,” Nichole said, smiling and waving. 

Wendy rolled her eyes. “Bebe, can I have a word with you?”

Bebe kept smiling as she and Wendy went away to speak. Butters stood awkwardly as Nichole eyed him. When he caught her staring, she smiled and waved again. Butters, not wanting to be rude, waved back.

Not long after, Wendy turned around, an annoyed look on her face. "Hi, Butters. Hop on in." She got in the driver's seat and Bebe walked past her to get in the back. Nichole sat in the passengers, so Butters had no other choice than to sit in the back with Bebe. He kind to didn't want to go. Not because he didn't like the girls, but because he felt like he was being a burden. Bebe was likely doing this out of pity, and now she was dragging her friends into it. 

Bebe handed Butters his fries, who hesitantly took them. He stopped himself from wolfing them down, so he slowly brought one to his mouth and ate it. He savored the saltiness and closed his eyes. Oh yeah. It was good. He doesn't think he'll ever get tired of McDonald's, as unhealthy as it was. He looked out the window and realized that they were driving now driving on the not-so-busy street. Wendy turned 

“Soooo, Butters,” Nichole said, breaking the silence. “How’s life going for you? Anything new?”

Butters licked some salt from his lips. “I mean, the week was pret-pretty eventful, I sup-“

Bebe chuckled. “I’m sure it was. Heard you started hanging out with Tweekers.”

Oh jeez. “Well, uh, yeah. H-Him and Craig are pretty c-cool.”

"If you say so. Every time I try to talk to Tweek, he screams, and every time I try to talk to Craig, he just flips me off."

Butters made a face. He thought Craig grew out of that in middle school, but maybe he just does it less. "T-They're not hard to talk to if you try. A-And Tweek is trying to get better."

"Do you still hang out with Stan, Kenny, Kyle, and Cartman?" Nichole asked, changing the subject. "Or did you finally come to your senses?" She laughed as if she was teasing, but Butters still winced as he chewed his food.

"Kind of. More Kenny than any of them." He didn't need to tell them what was actually going on.

"Really?" Wendy asked. "He told me he pissed you off."

Okay, nevermind then. He wanted to be mad that Kenny was talking about them, but he supposed he should feel more relieved than anything. Kenny was thinking about him. "Well, he's been acting all weird." Butters pouted and looked out the window again. They were passing buildings he's never seen before, and for a second he thought that he was no longer in South Park. "He's being a...butthole."

"You can swear, Butters. Your dad's not here to punish you," Bebe said, rolling her eyes. "Do you still like him?"

Before Butters could even acknowledge what she just asked, Nichole spoke up: "Of course he does."

Butters's face went red. How did they know? Does Kenny know and then told them? "I-I don't like Kenny like that."

"Yes, you do. Everyone knows except Kenny because he's an idiot."

Butters sighed with relief. Okay, if what Nichole said was true, then it's not that bad. He'd prefer for people _not_ to know, but Kenny was different. He didn't want to ruin their friendship and, heck, he doesn't even know if Kenny is gay! He wondered how he hasn't figured it out when everyone else seemed to. "Fine, I like him." Butters didn't miss Bebe's snicker. _Of course he does._

Then Nichole asked, in a genuinely concerned voice, “Why though?”

Butters thought about it. He’s had a crush on Kenny for a long time, even though he didn’t realize it at first. Kenny was probably the most corrupt person in South Park, but something about him was almost, dare Butters say…innocent. _Gasp!_ He remembered thinking this when they had a sleepover many years ago.

It was always cold in Kenny’s house, especially in the middle of the night. But when Butters woke up at 3:00 a.m, he realized that it wasn’t cold at all. And then he saw how close he and Kenny were. They were practically cuddling.

_“O-Oh, Ken, I-I’m so s-sorry,”_ Butters mumbled, trying to get out of the bed. He was still pretty out of it.

Kenny just looked at him. _“Huh?”_ He was pretty out of it, too.

Looking back, Butters was scared. Of what? Being called a faggot or something by Kenny? Maybe. He just wanted to be liked. That didn’t happen though.

_“Where're you going?” Kenny asked._

_“Y-You aren’t mad?”_

_“Why would I be? You’re cold. Get back over here.”_

Butters stared at him before laying back down, blushing like crazy. He felt like he was committing some sort of heinous crime, but decided not to care when Kenny wrapped his skinny legs around him. Butters could hear what the other boys would be saying: “This is so fucking gay, dude!” How could someone be that freaking sweet when they go through so much? Kenny was so cute, even though everything he did went against that. He was genuinely a good person.

“Butters? BUTTERS?!” Bebe shook his shoulder, making him jump. “Are you going to answer the question?”

He looked up to see that all the girls (even Wendy in the rear-view mirror) were staring at him, impatiently waiting for an answer. He shrunk in his seat and looked down. “I’ll tell you when I have the answer.” More eye-rolling from the three. Butters just had to deal with it, though. He couldn’t say why he liked Kenny so much, especially after what was happening then. Innocent? Sweet? He didn’t want to see anyone else roll their eyes at him that day.

 

* * *

 

Wendy announced that she was tired of driving the car, and stopped at a park. It was the one pretty close to Butters’ neighborhood, which meant they’ve been driving in one big circle the entire time. The place was empty, which was good because everyone wanted to chill on the swings. Plus, Bebe said she’d throw a kid off if she had to, and Butters really didn’t want to see that. It was getting colder, and the clouds were a lot grayer than they were last time he looked at them. Nichole and Wendy were sitting next to each other, chatting away while having an unspoken contest for who can swing the highest. Bebe and Butters, on the other hand, were mindlessly rocking back and forth. 

“You’re being awfully kind to me,” Butters said. 

“Yeah,” Bebe nodded. “I’m not really used to it.” Butters knew that, but he kept his mouth shut. “I feel like not a lot of people are nice to you.”

Butters shrugged. “Doesn't bother me too much. But it’s not as bad as it was in, say, middle school. I have friends to get me through it.”

"Like who?" 

He frowned at Bebe's tone. She sounded like she didn't believe him for some reason. 

"I-I just told you earlier, right?" He tried not to sound rude, he really didn't, but he swore they were just talking about that in the car. "Tweek is nice, I promise. It took a while to get through to him, but he tries to be-" _Don't say normal_ -"better. And Craig, well, he likes whoever Tweek likes. I know they don't have a good reputation, okay? But I don't care about that stuff."

Bebe raised her eyebrows as she stared at him. "Hm, alright." She cracked a smile, but it wasn't friendly. "Very interesting how you didn't mention Kenny. Do you not consider him a friend?"

Butters looked away and pursed his lips. "O-Of course I do. Do you have something against Kenny?"

"Did you block out elementary school?"

"What?"

"He and his friends were fucking assholes, and they probably still are, to be honest. I mean, at least Kyle and Stan are a little better now, but I can't say the same for the other two." She scowled. "Cartman is Cartman, but how can you still hang around Kenny?"

Butters felt a little awkward. Actually, no, he felt very awkward. This isn't the first time he's seen Bebe angry, but he didn't like how she was getting mad at him. Why was she so mad at him anyway? “Well, have you talked to him recently? Like, actually have a meaningful conversation with him?”

“Why would I do that?”

“I feel like if you got to know him, you’d see that he’s really nice." He smiled at her.

“Butters,” Bebe started to say in a tired voice, “I get that you love him. We all get it. But have you ever thought that maybe he's only nice to you because he's your friend."

Butters' smile disappeared and he looked at his shoes for a second. He was pushing himself on the swing, but Bebe stopped a while ago. "I-It makes sense though, right? Like, if you're close to him, he's nice."

“So I have to be his friend for him to be nice to me? Are you admitting that he's not a good person?"

Butters was getting a little frustrated with the girl. Bebe was so persistent on making him say that Kenny was bad when, in reality, he had no idea what was wrong between them. They've never dated before, he rarely saw them talk, so what was the issue? "No, I'm not admitting that. I wish you'd just tell me what the problem was."

For what was probably the tenth time that day, Bebe rolled her eyes. "Whatever. If you don't understand, then I won't tell you."

"I _want_ to understand," Butters tried. "Did he do something mean to you? To one of your friends? Are you mad about what he did to me? Did he even tell you why I was mad? I have no idea what the heck is going on, so I just-" Bebe was staring at him with an annoyed expression. "Um, a-am I being annoying? I'm sorry, I just..." Butters trailed off. Maybe he hit a nerve or something, but he wouldn't know.

Bebe's face relaxed and she sighed. "You're not annoying. I mean, you are kind of, but not that much." Butters didn't know if that was a compliment or not. "It's just...It annoys me that you let Kenny do whatever he wants because you like him. I'm sorry I'm being such a  bitch, but here's my take on things: Just because someone is nice to you doesn't mean you should think so highly of them."

Wow. Butters stared at Bebe in awe. He didn’t know if it was because she was kind of right, or because that’s the most she’s ever heard said to him in one sitting. She probably thought he was stupid, and he only felt worst about himself. He was waiting for her to mention how he didn’t answer Nichole’s question of why he liked Kenny. It did seem like the appropriate time to bring it up, just to fuel her argument. She didn’t. Either way, Butters felt nothing but childish for thinking of Kenny the way he did.

Wendy suddenly jumped off her swing, scaring the two, and flashed Nichole a look of pure smugness. She held up her phone. “My mom says I have to be back home now. I’m assuming you all want me to drop you guys off.” Her assumption was correct.

In the car, Bebe was back to her normal self, gossiping about how some girl on the cheer team was pregnant with some other girl’s boyfriend or whatever. Butters was quiet for the entire drive, and if someone asked him a question, he didn’t hear it. Her words were affecting him too much.  _Because what she said was the truth._ He tried not to think about it after that.

Wendy eventually stopped in front of Butters’ house. He quickly unbuckled his seatbelt, made sure he had his phone and got out as fast as he could. Drops of rain hit his hand.

“Bye, Butters. We’ll see you at school.”

He didn’t look behind to see who said that and mumbled a little “bye” as he shut the door. The car drove away the second he started walking off. Butters stopped himself from turning the knob of his front door when he got to it. He wanted to check his phone one last time before going back inside. It’s been a couple of hours, so surely Tweek got to- Nope. Still no answer. Butters bit the inside of his cheek as he pulled up Craig’s contact.

**Butters: Everything okay? Tweek’s not answering me.**

If something did happen, Craig would tell him.

Butters shut off his phone and finally opened the door. Much to his disappointment, his dad was still out, as his car wasn’t in the driveway. He was still pretty lonely, even after being around other people. Maybe it was because it ended sourly for him, but he ought to be used to that by now. Yet, he figured he shouldn’t feel that way; he wanted to spend his weekend by himself at first. He needed to take a nap. Yup, that's what he needed. Butters dragged himself up the stairs, hearing the rain getting harder and harder. He never understood people who got relaxed by it, so the nap he needed might not happen. God. His pace didn’t change when he was upstairs, trying to get to his bed. Maybe he could just hide under the blankets like he did when he was little. Or he could listen to some of that obnoxious “relaxing” music he constantly saw on YouTube.

As Butters opened his door, he jumped when he saw that his dad was inside, sitting on his bed. At that moment, Butters didn’t notice the beer bottles that were rolled out from underneath, the empty one his dad was holding, or the all too familiar look on his face. But when he did, it felt like the entire world froze, except for them two.

They stared at each other, not saying a word.

Butters, despite how much his heart was picking up its pace, broke the silence. “I-I thought you said you’d be home much later.”

Instead of answering, Stephen asked, “Why was my beer under your bed?” His tone was even, even though his face showed that he had been drinking. A lot.

“I…um…w-what?”

His dad rubbed his nose and sat up. He was moving slowly, but Butters still flinched. His heart wasn't slowing down. “My beer”—he sniffed—“was under your bed. Why?” He started to walk forward.

Butters tried to say something. The memories of when he first saw his father drunk was coming back to him. This time, there was no yelling, no insults, and no slurred speech, yet Butters was a lot more scared than he was last week. “I don’t know.” He’s lying, obviously, but the reason didn’t even matter now.

They were face to face now. Stephen didn’t look that angry, just tired. Butters was shaking and felt like he was going to pass out. His vision was getting fuzzy and a high-pitched noise rang in his ears. If he fainted now, would his dad leave him alone?

Before Butters could think of anything else, something struck his cheek. By instinct, he brought his hand to it, and tears were already starting to form from the pain. He didn’t know what was going on when it happened again, with twice the amount of initial force. That one made him stumble backward onto the floor. When he looked up, all he was his father jump on him. He shut his eyes tightly because he was getting punched again. And again. And again.

_What is going on?_

It wasn’t just his cheek. It was his jaw, his eye, his nose, his mouth. His neck, too. Holy crap, that hurt. He choked on his breath.

_Oh, my god. Oh, my god. Do something! Push him off!_

“Fucking liar! You’re a fucking thief!” His dad's face was red.

_What? I didn’t do anything bad. I was trying to protect you._

Butters was probably crying then because he figured his dad was going to kill him. When Stephen stopped punching, he got up and kicked his stomach. As hard as he could. Butters gasped and wheezed after each one, spluttering blood on the floor. 

_I was trying to protect myself._

He started to blackout, and it was getting harder to understand what was being said by his dad. He was probably just swearing and calling him a liar again. Butters didn’t want to die, but at the same time, he couldn’t handle the pain anymore.

_It’s for the best._ That’s what he thought before his dad kicked his head. It was getting a lot easier to let go.

_It’ll be okay._

Butters heard thunder crash as he fell asleep.

It’s okay. Just go to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This book will be on hiatus for a while. Sorry to leave you with this epic cliffhanger lol. Not only are the future chapters still being planned out, but I have some one shots that I want to write before I continue with this. I'm happy people like this story, and I appreciate all the kudos and comments :). See you guys soon!


	7. Today's Just Not My Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Butters is still alive and well. Or, he's alive at least. He didn't know if that was something to celebrate with the day he had.

Yesterday happened. Butters kept ignoring that as he lay in bed. He couldn’t believe it, no matter how sore he was or how freakishly dark the bruises were. It didn’t make him feel any better, so he didn’t know why he bothered.

It’s been just over twenty-four hours since then, but Butters felt like he’s been in his room for weeks. He hadn’t eaten anything, he barely left his bed, and he didn’t leave unless he had to use the bathroom. Of course, he only went when his dad wasn’t around. Butters felt like crying every time he thought of his dad and choked at the thought of seeing him. How could he after what he did?

Butters’ body started to feel numb again, which meant it was time to get up and pace around his room for a bit. As much as he’d love to stay in his bed, he swore he read somewhere that sitting too much can kill him (sitting isn’t laying down, but one could never be too careful). He felt a bit silly thinking that when he didn’t mind the idea of dying so much yesterday.

As he stretched his leg, Butters paused and looked over at his phone. He’s honestly surprised it survived—not a single crack on it. He hasn’t heard it vibrate, and nothing seemed to pop up on the screen.

Tweek and Craig have to be dead or something. Why else would they not be answering him? Kenny gave up a long time ago, and Butters couldn’t blame him. If he was being honest, he almost considered quitting the silent treatment and talk to Kenny. Maybe Bebe wouldn’t like that, but- wait, why did he care what Bebe thought?

Butters had a headache. Probably due to dehydration and hunger, and he dreaded the time when his body would finally catch up to it. For some reason, just thinking of what being so hungry it hurt would be like freaked him out. He had to eat sooner or later.

Butters sighed when he realized he was just standing. He couldn’t stay in his room forever. He couldn’t ignore what happened forever. He couldn’t ignore his _dad_ forever. Goddammit.

No noise came from downstairs, but that wasn’t a good enough sign. Butters crept out of his room, not even opening the door all the way in fear of it creaking. He cringed whenever he made a noise and froze if he was being too loud. Nothing. As he made his way down the hallway, he listened for breathing or footsteps or something, but it was silent. Was his dad even home? God, he hoped not.

Butters started to get more reckless, but just a bit to test the waters. The floor beneath him creaked, but nothing happened. Before Butters knew it himself, he was running down the stairs, not caring if he might trip or not.

Wait, his dad! He’s not here. Butters looked around. Nothing. He looked around again, just to make sure. He’s really not here.

Butters ran to the kitchen and looked around again while doing so. It’s okay, Butters. It’s okay. Even then, he was grabbing all the snacks he could carry, including a single water bottle. He looked around-

_Focus, Leopold! Your dad could just walk through the door any minute! Hurry up!_

Oh, god, what if he’s still here? He could just be upstairs! Why didn’t Butters think of that?! He could even be hiding, patiently waiting for Butters to finally come downstairs, then kill him. But he didn’t try to kill Butters yesterday. Maybe. Wait, did he?

Butters was running back up the stairs, trying not to drop the food, and didn’t stop running until he was safe in his room. He slammed the door shut, locked it, leaned against it, and panted. He had thrown the snacks on his bedroom floor in all of that, but it’s okay. It’s okay because he’s safe and he has something to eat.

He wasted no time in tearing open the package of cookies and shoved them down his throat. He suddenly felt the hunger pains kick in, and was happy he got food when he did. He was thirsty, too, so he poured the water into his mouth. It reminded him of when he was a kid and everyone else would be like, “Hey, could I have a waterfall?” People always said Butters had the fancy water (whatever the heck that meant), so he got asked that question a lot. Funny thing is, when he asked other people, they’d say no. Sometimes they’d even drink the whole bottle in front of-

Butters let out a choked sob and knew then he was crying. He felt ridiculous sobbing like a baby with a mouth full of cookies, but he supposed he needed it after what happened. Don’t worry, he’s not crying about the stupid water bottle thing. Even while tears and snot ran down his face, Butters continued eating and drinking his water.

He couldn’t wait until his mom came back.

 

* * *

 

Mondays weren’t all that bad. Unless you hurt all over, had to go to school, and had to face the man who beat the crap out of you who happened to be your own father. Butters didn’t want to see any of his classmates today, for reasons one could possibly think of. Just take a wild guess. But it’s not like he could ask his dad to stay home. Ditching was also out of the question for him, since he already missed last Friday, and didn’t need any more unexcused absences. He took a cold shower (because hygiene is important and stuff), didn’t bother drying all the way, did the normal bathroom stuff everybody, got dressed, and got his stuff together. For the first time in three days, he didn’t look like absolute crap.

Butters didn’t think much as he got ready for school, but all those worries and anxieties came back the second he saw his dad in the kitchen. He froze in place and tried to see exactly what was going on before he made another move.

Stephen was pouring a generous amount of syrup on some Eggo waffles. There was a glass of chocolate milk next to him, and Butters just noticed that the room smelled like burned bacon. Then his dad turned around, and he felt like sprinting for his life. He expected his dad to jump on him, or at least stare at him intimidatingly, but nope. Instead, he got a smile. “Good morning, son, how’d you sleep last night?”

Butters didn’t reply and didn’t realize he should until his dad furrowed his brows. “Huh? Wait, I-I mean, uh, fine? Fine.” He didn't actually know if he slept fine; He didn't even remember if he fell asleep or not.

“Ah, that’s nice,” his dad nodded. He picked up the plate with waffles and bacon with one hand, the glass of milk with the other, then set them on the table. He even made sure to get utensils and a napkin. “I made you breakfast.”

“I-I see that.”

“Now I know it’s no gourmet meal. I even burned the bacon, but I hope you enjoy.”

Butters found himself sitting down, thinking _Man, he’s just going to pretend like nothing’s wrong, isn’t he?_ At least he apologized the last time; this is just weird. Even then, Butters ate all his food and drank all his chocolate milk, ignoring his dad’s stare.

It was delicious, and that just made things worse. He forced himself to eat even when he was full because he didn’t know what would happen if he stopped. When nothing was left, he looked at his dad and plastered on a smile: “All d-done.”

Stephen knew that because he’d been watching the entire time, so Butters didn’t know why he said that. “Great. Was it good?”

“Um, very. Very good. I-I should get going to school now.” He grabbed his backpack and was already making his way to the front door.

“So soon? You usually leave fifteen minutes from now.”

Butters didn’t even turn around when he answered, he just kept walking. “I-I just want to get there e-early. G-Goodbye, dad.”

“Goodbye, Butters. I’ll see you later.”

By the time he was outside, Butters was running down the street. The ground was wet from the rain last night, it was freezing cold, he forgot his jacket, but he didn't care. He didn’t want to spend another second in that house.

Butters didn’t stop running until the main entrance of the school was in sight, and he was panting when he stopped. His eyes drifted towards two kids talking near the stairs and figured they were freshman judging by their size. They looked way too happy for a day like this and, for some reason, it really annoyed Butters. He shook his head and ignored them, walking up to the front doors.

He probably should’ve taken a breath or something before going inside because he suddenly forgot how to breathe. The school was quieter and darker than usual. Any other day, he would have been happy, but it only made him more nervous. Butters also noticed that no one was staring at him anymore. It was like last week never happened. Butters didn’t know whether he should feel grateful or frightened.

People were talking, but they sounded muffled and far away, even when Butters was close to them. Not to mention his vision was getting blurrier as he got closer to his locker. Butters started panicking and looked around frantically, not even knowing what he was looking for. Jesus, he was so paranoid. Over what? His dad is at home, probably watching TV or drinking beer or something. His bruises were covered for the most part, but it’s not like anyone cared about them. Well, maybe there’s a couple of people who would care, but not a lot. He just needed to calm down.

“Hey, Butters.”

Suddenly, Butters could hear and see more clearly. He realized he was putting his books away in his locker, but didn’t remember reaching his locker in the first place. He slowly turned his head to see Tweek standing there, smiling. He was _smiling_. Tweek Tweak was at school, smiling and content. Why was _he_ , of all people, looking so relaxed while Butters felt like he was about to pass out?

Tweek’s smile slowly disappeared as Butters continued to stare at him. “H-Hey, is something wrong? You look terrible.”

Butters took a deep breath before replying. “Yeah, I had a pretty crummy week.” He continued putting his books away, not realizing he was putting away the wrong ones. “I’d tell you all the details, but they’re pretty graphic.”

Tweek took a step closer, cautiously raising his hand. “Butters, you’re starting to freak me out. And you have this giant bruise on your-“

“Where were you?”

“Huh?”

“I texted you but you never answered me.”

Tweek froze, then bit his lip and looked everywhere but at Butters. “Y-Yeah, sorry about th-that. Um, I was busy.”

Butters slammed his locker shut. He didn’t mean to, but he played it off like he did. “Too busy to send a text? You could’ve just said ‘no’ if you didn’t want to hang out with me.”

“C’mon, Butters, you know that’s not what happened,” Tweek said desperately. “I was just _busy_ that’s all.”

“Doing what?”

Tweek let out a long sigh and crossed his arms. “It’s personal okay? I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

Butters was starting to feel bad, but he didn't stop himself from yelling. “Too personal to tell your best friend?! Is that seriously how you’re going to treat me?” God, what is he saying?

“What?” Tweek looked more confused now. “I-I didn’t even know we were best friends….”

“SERIOUSLY?! AFTER EVERYTHING WE DID, EVERYTHING YOU TOLD ME? GEEZ, I EVEN TOLD YOU THAT I LIKED YOU!” People were staring at them now.

Tweek shushed Butters as he silently begged the audience to just keep on walking. “Butters, you liking me doesn’t make us best friends. And I mean, shit, we’ve only known each other for, what, a week?”

Butters knew he was overreacting. He knew he was being childish and ridiculous and so… _not_ Butters. Still, he couldn’t help the fact that every little thing was peeing him off and he needed to take it out on something. Poor Tweek. He was really starting to feel like garbage. Butters didn’t reply to what Tweek said, instead he turned around and left for class, ignoring his name being called. Butters’ face felt hot and his heart was racing. Was he really this mad over something so silly? He wasn’t supposed to be mad at Tweek, he was supposed to be mad at his dad. He should’ve yelled at him this morning, told him off, asked him why he did the things he did to his son. _No._  Butters was a coward.

He was starting to feel angry at himself now.

Butters walked into class, feeling everyone’s eyes on him. But when he looked up, no one was actually looking at him. God. He sat in his usual seat (behind Kyle and Stan, who never spoke to him in class) and stared at his desk. It had a lot of scratches on it and someone drew a cat in the corner. Butters focused on the cat as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

The teacher finally came in and started class. Oh yeah, he’s in math. Butters looked through his books, trying to find his math one. He furrowed his brows when he realized that he didn’t have his math book with him. How is that possible? He looked through the three he _did_ have again and again before giving up. Butters slumped in his seat. _Hamburgers._

 

* * *

 

Tweek and Craig weren’t at lunch. What a surprise. Whatever, it’s not like Butters wanted to sit with them. He couldn’t face them after what he said, and apparently, they weren’t as close as he thought….

He'll just sit with Stan, Kyle, and Cartman, as always. And there was still no Kenny--another _totally unexpected_ surprise. He mumbled a “Hey, guys” as he sat down, not making eye contact with them. Stan turned to say hi back but froze. Kyle and Cartman both followed his eyes, and their jaws dropped when they did.

Butters looked up at them. “What?” he asked, worried something was wrong.

“No fucking way,” Cartman said under his breath. He grabbed Butters’ hair and shoulder, forcing the boy to expose his neck.

“Ow!” Butters yelled. “What?!”

“Holy shit, Butters,” Kyle said in disbelief. “Is that what I think it is?”

Butters started panicking. Oh god. Oh jeez. They know. And soon everyone else is going to know. His dad is going to know that they know. Oh god. Oh god. He hoped no one noticed how hard he was breathing and how bad he was shaking. Oh god.

“Damn, that dude really let himself go, didn’t he?”

Butters shut his eyes, trying to keep his tears in.

“The gay jokes are getting old, man,” Stan sighed.

Wait, what? Gay jokes? Butters opened his eyes, “W-What are you guys talking about?”

“Butters, there’s a huge ass hickey on your neck.”

“WHAT?”

Kyle handed him his phone, an evident smirk on his face. Butters looked in the reflection and, sure enough, there was a large bruise on the area between his neck and his shoulder. He didn’t remember seeing that earlier, but it didn’t matter because everyone must have already. And to make things worse, he knew it wasn’t a hickey.

“Only a girl could do something like that,” Stan said matter of factly.  

Cartman rolled his eyes. “Pfft whatevs. Guys have bigger mouths than girls--that’s a fact.”

“Oh fuck off,” Kyle groaned. “We both know that’s not true.” He turned to Butters, “Congrats, man. Was it a birthday present from some chick?”

Birthday present? Birthday? They knew it was…? Okay, Butters officially had enough. His face was getting hot again and he needed to be alone. He slid Kyle’s phone across the table to him and stomped out of the cafeteria. He left his food there untouched, but he wasn’t hungry.

Butters stomped all the way to Ms. Simmons’ room, which was always unlocked for some reason. He found out accidentally when he was turning in a late assignment. It’s not like Butters will tell anyone though, as he didn’t want kids to come in here and do drugs, or whatever it is kids do in empty classrooms. He shut the door and let out a long sigh. He could still hear voices from down the hallway but took comfort in the fact that they were quiet and on the other side. Butters slowly walked to his seat as if it mattered where he sat, and put his face in his hands.

Today was so sucky. It was probably one of the worst days of his life. Well, school days. He could name ten other days that rivaled this one. Still, it didn’t make him feel any better. He didn’t even have the motivation to listen to his fifties music playlist, which was supposed to be his cheer-up mechanism. Butters lay his head down and shut his eyes, wishing he could cry because there wasn’t a better way to express his emotions. He just hated everyone right now. He hated himself. He’s never felt his way before, and it was scary.

The door creaked open, and Butters hoped that if he ignored the sound, nothing would happen. But that was stupid. Someone found out about the room, his only safe space at the moment. Of course. Maybe they’ll go away because he was there first.

“Long time no see, Buttercup.”

_…Shit._

Butters wasn’t suicidal, but he really wouldn’t mind dying right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HeYEY I'm BACKKKK. Yeah, sorry for the long wait. I wanted to get this out by April and write other stuff, then I didn't because school, but it doesn't matter because I'm here now and I'm on summer vacation :DDD!!!!!!! I hope this was worth the long ass hiatus lol. I have the next five chapters planned, and I'm really excited to write them. Thank you for almost 100 kudos and thank you for being patient ahahaha.


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